


a million little secrets

by goldenthunderstorms (PotatosaurusOfBroadway), kindalonelyqueerkid, Maddiethepixie0912



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: EVERYONE HATES DAVY, Fiona is an icon change my mind, M/M, Pirates, Smut and Fluff and Angst, SnowBaz, Yes they kiss, a lot of alcohol consumption, alix likes tagging things, alix plays fiddle so this is accurate (they hope), also there are sword fights, and they were pirates oh my god they were pirates, baz is even more of a jerk, baz isn't a vampire sorry guys, baz plays fiddle tunes in ireland once, do you think our writing styles work together? because we don’t know, does this count as slow burn? probably not, fiona is an icon and no one can convince me otherwise, how long will this be? we have no idea so just hang on kiddos, is agatha a siren? sure why not, it’s in character mostly, making out in random pubs, no they’re not magical but there are a few whimsical creatures, okay now they’re pirates, penny hates london, penny hates london it’s canon, pirate slang courtesy of hunter, please listen to the playlist because it just bops, plenty of cursing, ps. alix is going to hell for writing half of this lol, quote unquote some, seriously WE ALL HATE DAVY, smut but it's sweet? is that a thing? well it is now, sorry hunter loves angst, the authors stay up until 3am every night, the world was in desperate need of a snowbaz pirate au so here it is, their first meeting is a hookup because the authors have too much power, there are sirens so it's not like we completely ignored the magic, there’s a lot of innuendo, there’s some angst, they're all about 22 or so, they're not underage don't worry, we took a lot of creative license, woah side characters are actually used, you know it’s great when there’s a prologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatosaurusOfBroadway/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindalonelyqueerkid/pseuds/kindalonelyqueerkid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddiethepixie0912/pseuds/Maddiethepixie0912
Summary: ~ “Bloody kiss me already.” I say right before his lips crash into mine for the second time tonight. He tastes like booze and bad ideas. I’m the captain of my own ship, and here I am: snogging the enemy. And it feels absolutely divine. ~Basilton Pitch is the most feared pirate captain on the seas. He has power and a crew and a reputation to uphold. He’s always known this; he’s a cruel captain in a cruel world, but after meeting a gorgeous boy in a pub, things start to seem less and less simple. And a part of him is willing to risk it all.Simon Snow is that gorgeous boy from the pub. Unfortunately, his allegiances lie elsewhere than with a mysterious captain who won’t even allow him his name, but their fates are already intertwined. Strangely enough, their paths keep crossing. Only they’re bound to get caught sometime…





	1. prologue

**here is the playlist:**

[ _ https://open.spotify.com/user/1244763432/playlist/63AXYIHeS2Gkgkg92SyaZH?si=0PuJJ9LlSPy7DVLgP4AlDw _ ](https://open.spotify.com/user/1244763432/playlist/63AXYIHeS2Gkgkg92SyaZH?si=0PuJJ9LlSPy7DVLgP4AlDw)

**prologue**

**_London, England - 1715_ **

**penelope**

I hate London. The woman beside me gives me a harsh look and I realize I said that out loud, but I wasn’t lying. I fucking despise this place. It’s too crowded, it smells like sewage, and there are far too many people.

I stalk away from the offended lady and into the first bar that I see. The place is practically empty, except for an old man in the corner and a young bartender with golden curls and their back to me.

I perch on a barstool, tapping my fingers on the counter. The boy, I see his features clearly now, turns around. He’s fair skinned—apparently never been on the sea—broad shoulders and face, but he’s thin and his skin stretches over his bones like he hasn’t had a decent meal in a long time. There’s what’s left of a bruise on his cheek, and his eyes are red-rimmed. Yet he seems almost happy to see me.

“‘Ello!” he says brightly. I instantly regret coming in.

“Greetings,” I say as poshly as I can. God, I hate city-folk.

He smiles at me. I need to up my intimidation game here, but it seems cruel of me. He seems almost sweet, which is not one of my usual classifications for people.

“What brings you to the Sailor’s Widow?” He asks much too peppily for the sentence he just uttered.

“What?”

He laughs, “The Sailor’s Widow is the name of this fine establishment.” He waves his hands around.

The dingy bar doesn’t seem to be a particularly fine establishment to me, but I don’t dispute him.

“Of course. Well, travel, I guess.”

He nods sagely, “It’s what they all say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks, “It’s what everyone who has a secret says. You seem like a woman with secrets, so I assumed you are like all of the others.”

His words catch me off guard, and I feel as if he has figured out my entire life story with one glance. I deflect.

“Then why are you here? Travel?”

“Ran away from home,” he answers plainly.

Again, he catches me off guard. I thought he was just some plain city boy trying to feed his family by working at a rundown pub probably owned by his father… Apparently, I am a hypocrite. I was all worked up about him figuring me out, when that’s all I’d been doing since the moment I sat down.

“Where were you before this hell hole?”

He laughs at my idea of London but doesn’t seem offended like that woman. “Wales, which might be more dreary than this _hell hole_.”

I roll my eyes.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“What?”

“Most people who come into pubs want something to drink.” He smiles again, like the whole world’s a joke to him.

“Oh, a pint of your strongest.”

He pours me a glass and sets it in front of me. After my first sip, which proves to be absolutely vile, but strong (I cannot complain about his ability to follow directions). He shoots me a rakish smile. “Now you owe me something.”

I knew there was a catch.

“I told you about me, now you have to tell me about you.”

“Well, whatever your name is—” I bide my time.

“Simon Salisbury,” he answers me like it was a question. “And you are?”

“Penelope Bunce,” I sit up straighter, haughty, “but most just call me Captain.”

His eyes widen, and I smirk. He knows who I am because everyone knows who I am. My reputation precedes me. Very well.

“You’re the Captain Penny…” he sounds awed, and I don’t blame him. I would be awed if I met me.

“The very one.”

“You look younger than I thought you would…” he says, tilting his head quizzically.

“I’m twenty-two.” I tell him, “According to my crew I’ve been twenty-two for five years. They aren’t the sharpest daggers in my belt.”

He chuckles at that, which almost makes me smile. Almost. He doesn’t say anything else for a while, instead he busies himself with something behind the counter.

“Take me with you.” He says finally, and his voice is too low for him to be joking. He even leans towards me over the counter. At least he’s bold.

“You’re joking.” A last-ditch effort.

He shakes his head, “I mean it, Pen—Captain, take me with you. I hate this place, and will do anything to leave it. I can be useful, I swear it.”

“You’re gonna have to ditch the Salisbury then.” I tell him, “It’s far too posh. Did your parents give you a middle name?”

“Snow,” he answers.

“That’s more like it.” _Simon Snow does have a good ring to it_ , I think to myself. “Meet me at my ship at midnight, you can prove your worth then.”

“Really?” he says, sounding surprised.

I down the rest of my ale, feeling that I would enjoy drinking pure kerosene more, and nod. “Don’t be late.”

 

**simon**

I’m far too excited for my own good. I’ve already packed my meager belongings into an old carpet bag. I walk down to the docks, looking for the hulking masts of The Magick. It’s easy to spot, for it’s the most impressive ship in the harbour. I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea.

“Simon,” Captain Penelope steps out of the shadows, scaring me half to death.

I give a strangled yelp and she rolls her eyes at me.

“Optimistic, are we?” She gestures to my carpet bag.

“I figured—” but she interrupts me.

“Come aboard, Simon.” She leads me onto the deck by my arm, I have no choice but to blindly follow. She snatches my bag and sets it down on the deck. My pulse quickens.

“Rhys!” she shouts into the darkness.

A rugged looking sailor appears, carrying a lantern.

“Aye, Captain!” He says, saluting her. Sighing, she gives him a slight nod of approval.

“Gareth!” She shouts next, “Bring the sword!”

Another man, who looks similar to Rhys, comes out of the shadows carrying a beautiful sword with an engraved hilt. It’s the most beautiful weapon I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many.

Gareth walks towards me with his head bowed. And then he hands me the sword. Not knowing what else to do, I take it.

The metal is cool against my skin, but it doesn’t feel unnatural in any way. In fact, it feels like I’ve held this very sword my entire life.

Captain Penelope walks away from me and then turns, two daggers glinting in each of her hands. And then she pounces.

_This is how I’m going to die._

My sword—I guess that it’s mine now—raises up of its own accord. The Captain’s daggers don’t get anywhere near my skin. Everything starts going in slow motion, and I swear I’m running on sheer luck, blocking every blow Captain throws at me. Already, I’m getting tired, and I know I can’t keep up this charade of skill for much longer.

_This is how I’m going to die._

Suddenly, her foot connects with my shin, unbalancing me. I fall to the ground; my sword clattering to the deck in front of me. Useless.

_This is how I’m going to die._

I tense up, waiting for the blow that will end my life. I can practically feel Captain Penelope’s gaze on the back of my neck. It feels like she’s burning a hole into my ratty shirt. I feel ridiculously calm for the situation. I’m ready.

_This is how I die._

I close my eyes.

And the blow never comes.

Instead, the Captain reaches down for my hand lying limp on the deck. I look up. Her daggers are sheathed, and the look in her eyes is almost admiring.

I take her hand, and she pulls me to my feet. The rest of the crew gathers around her and I. There’s no way I can escape now. I feel like I’m being judged.

She smiles wickedly.

“Welcome aboard The Magick, Simon Snow.”

 


	2. chapter one

**chapter 1**

**_Donegal, Ireland - 1718_ **

**basilton**

The jigs and reels fly from my fingertips. Though I haven’t played my fiddle in months, the patrons are none the wiser. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves well enough. Of course, it might be the liquor rather than my playing, but I’ll take what I can get. 

I notice a boy with golden curls and freckle-covered, sunkissed skin that can only be from years at sea, if my own skin is any judge. Golden Boy smiles at me, and my stomach is instantly full of butterflies. It’s like the first time I ever saw a pretty boy up close. And he’s far prettier than that random village kid. 

My gut tells me to end my set, and like the bastard I am: I listen to it. I end on a somber note, a beautiful waltz that I wrote myself. It was nameless before today, but I decide to title it Golden Boy’s Waltz. Just for him. 

I step off the platform, grinning and putting my violin back into its case. I give a flourishing bow before grabbing the case and weaving through the groups of people. Golden Boy in the back is still eyeing me. He’s cute, I’ll give him that. No, he deserves better than that. He’s gorgeous.

I’ve got some time on my hands. I might as well strike up a conversation.

I walk up to him and put my finger on his chin. It’s bold, but I already had a drink before the show, so I know I can blame this behaviour on alcohol. He closes his mouth. “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

He continues staring for a moment before he replies. “You’re good at that.” He gestures to the violin case slung over my shoulder.

“I’d hope so, or these people wasted a few good shillings.” I shake the pouch I’m holding. “Might as well put them to use, though. Care for a drink, Golden Boy?”

He blushes, and I can’t help but wonder how he ended up here. “Why not?”

It’s a valid question.

I take his hand and pull him to the bar, ordering two pints of ale. While I order, I take a look at the ring on his finger. I’d felt it when I took his hand. I don’t often steal, nothing simple like fruit from a market stand or pocketbooks from passersby. But when opportunities for things of high value—say, a pretty boy in a pub with an expensive ring—present themselves, it seems only common sense to swipe it.

I almost swear under my breath. This isn’t any pretty boy. This pretty boy belongs to Penelope Bunce. He wears the garish purple ring that marks members of her crew. (Cowards, all of them, for avoiding tattoos like true pirates).

Yet, Golden Boy doesn’t seem to recognize me; he seems all too happy to have a drink. So maybe I’ll let this play out. If he doesn’t work out who I am, this could be an enjoyable night.

“Thanks, uh,” Golden Boy pauses.

I shake my head. “No names, alright?”

“Why?” He asks, his head tilting a little. Gods spare me, he’s like a puppy.

I smile, “I just want to see where this goes. No names make it easier.”

Golden Boy still seems baffled but doesn’t argue. “Alright, well what can I call you, then? Fiddle Boy?”

“That’ll do fine.”

The bartender slides two mugs in front of us and I take one, downing it. Golden Boy does the same, which surprises me.

“So, Golden Boy, what brings you to this fine establishment?” I ask drily.

“Travel,” Golden Boy answers simply and respectably. It’s a safe answer. If I wasn’t familiar with Bunce, I probably would never have known he was a pirate. “What about you, Fiddle Boy?”

“Same as you,” I say, and down more ale.

Golden Boy fixes me with a look, then trails his eyes over my body like he’s looking for my sign of allegiance. He won’t find it because my crew tattoos the backs of their necks and keeps their hair long, but his gaze sends warmth coursing through me. “Where are you from?”

“My family’s from outside of the Continent.” I answer, unsure that he’d even know where Egypt is. “I was raised all over the map.”

“I didn’t figure you were from around here.” He says, and I roll my eyes.

“Never seen someone with dark skin, Golden Boy?” I tease, knowing full well he has.

He rolls his eyes in return, which draws a smile out of me. “Course I have, why else would I know you’re not from the Continent?”

“Whatever you say, Golden Boy. Where are you from then?” I ask as he downs more from his mug.

“London,” Golden Boy answers.

“How’d you end up here, then?  _ Travelling? _ ” I say, and I think an unspoken understanding passes between us. We both know what kind of travel we do, but  _ dead men tell no tales _ —and neither of us fancy being dead men. It’s easier this way, pretending like we’re two blokes out for a drink, both travelling with families or something of the like.

Golden Boy shrugs, “You could say that.” His eyes shift around me and he finishes his mug. I regret making the connection out loud. He won’t trust me now—not that I planned on trusting him.

I offer my hand to him. “Come on, Golden Boy. Tonight, there are no names. Pretend with me.” I say, raising an eyebrow. Once again, boldness I will likely blame on the alcohol.

He eyes me suspiciously for a moment before sliding his hand—his left hand, which he wears his ring on—into mine. I stand and pull him up with me, leading him to dance with me. Another fiddler has taken the stage and everyone is caught up in a lively jig. It makes no difference as I pull Golden Boy in with me. He is a terrible dancer, either too fast or too slow. But Golden Boy is energetic, grinning and spinning and jumping. He’s adorable.

Golden Boy smiles and blushes and I realize I said that last part out loud.

The dance becomes partnered and I obviously pull Golden Boy to me. I guide him now, helping him follow the steps. He’s a quick study.

“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” Golden Boy asks, breathless.

I shrug, “You pick things up when you travel.”

Golden Boy rolls his eyes. “There doesn’t seem to be much time for dancing.”

“Then you haven’t been doing it long enough.” I spin Golden Boy before he can reply, hearing him laugh. It’s an irresistible laugh. I want to learn more about him: his name, his rank, his favourite foods, how to make him laugh like that again.

Golden Boy picks up the steps of the dance and soon doesn’t need me to lead him. He matches me and before I’m aware of it, he’s knocked me off my feet—literally. He’s dipped me, and he’s laughing again, probably at my surprised face. His cheeks are flushed and his curls are a mess.

He rights me again. I grab the collar of his shirt, pulling his face close to mine. I can’t help it. He’s so close and so  _ alive _ , with his bright smiles and pink cheeks covered in freckles. I stop when our lips are a hairsbreadth apart, meeting his brilliant gaze with my own. Golden Boy looks surprised but he doesn’t back down. He presses his lips to mine, fiercely.

Golden Boy seems to treat everything like it’s a challenge.

“I have a room at the inn next door.” I gasp out when he finally lets me breathe. 

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me, Fiddle Boy?”

I take his hand and start pulling him towards the door of the pub. To my surprise, he follows my lead without protest and we make our way into the street. 

“It’s this way, Golden Boy.” I tell him when he begins to set off in the wrong direction, “If you still want to do this.”

He flashes me an award winning smile, “Lead the way, pretty boy.”

I am so glad my skin is dark; there’s no way he can see the flush in my cheeks, especially with the lack of streetlights. 

We make our way into the inn and up the stairs. The place is completely empty. I don’t even see an innkeeper. Golden Boy winds his fingers in mine, smirking. I take the key to my room out of my pocket. When the door opens, I pull Golden Boy into the little room. My knees hit the side of the bed, and he ends up on top of me. 

He raises himself up on his forearms, his breath tickling my lips. 

“Bloody kiss me already.” I say right before his lips crash into mine for the second time tonight. He tastes like booze and bad ideas. I’m the captain of my own ship, and here I am: snogging the enemy. And it feels absolutely divine. 

“Good Gods…” he moans against my lips. 

I slip my tongue into his mouth, pushing him off of me. Within seconds, I’m straddling his hips and my hands are fisted in the back of his tunic. 

We part, breathless. 

My lips make their way down the curve of his neck, finding every freckle and mole along the way. I treat his gorgeous imperfections like targets. Always the pirate, but I fear that this is more than a forgettable conquest. As Golden Boy’s fingers tug on my hair, I realize this boy isn’t going anywhere. And neither am I. 

“I want to know your name.” He gasps out, and his breath hitches when he speaks. Apparently I’ve just made it to a rather sensitive part. 

I let my lips hover over his neck, “I want to know yours, but we can’t all get what we want, Golden Boy. The world would be boring that way.”

He sighs dramatically at my words, but I know he understands. We come from a line of work where names are dangerous. People aren’t always who they say that they are, but I don’t care right now. 

I want to tell him. I want to scream:  _ My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. I want to tell you everything but it’s too dangerous. And I’m too scared.  _ He would look at me after I spoke, his eyes wouldn’t be filled with alarm or anger like I feared, but understanding. He would understand.  _ And you, Golden Boy, you can call me Baz.  _

“If you can’t tell me your name,” he whispers into my ear, “then make me forget mine.”

I do just that. 

 

**penelope**

Simon has been acting weird ever since we left Donegal. He came back in the wee hours of the morning the night before we left, his neck covered in marks made by someone else’s mouth. I didn’t question him then, but today he seems especially distant and I am especially intrigued. 

He’s never been like this before. I’ve never thought of him as a sexual person. I don’t even know if he likes girls or boys. There was one girl in Liverpool when he first joined our crew, but I don’t think they even kissed. Just danced together at a dingy little pub. 

I think he was just trying to remind himself of home. It didn’t mean anything to him. 

But now he’s obsessed.

Came back that night with all of those marks, smelling like expensive cologne. Simon doesn’t wear cologne. Though he might benefit from it sometimes. With that, I promise myself that I will figure out everything I can about Simon and his mysterious lover. 

  
  
  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, you lovely and fantastic people. 
> 
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


	3. chapter two

**chapter 2**

**_The Magick - 1718_ **

**simon**

“Aye, Simon, catch!” Rhys throws a rope down from the crow’s nest.

I catch the rope, tying it down. “Coming down from the nest?”

“Aye!” With that, Rhys slides down the rope.

I’ve been at sea for two years now, but it still doesn’t feel real sometimes. Sometimes I watch Rhys slide down from the nest or I watch Penny send cannonballs into a ship and I have to ask:  _ is this real? _

Once, Penny heard me say that. She laughed and said: “As real as anything else, just less legal.” Then, she slid a ring into my hand without a word. It was my allegiance ring. That very second, I became part of the team. Penny’s team.

Penny isn’t as prickly as people think she is. She’s my closest mate on the ship, which is probably why she made  _ me  _ first mate. The rest of the crew wasn’t all that happy about it at first, but I’ve grown on them, I think. Pen lost her original first mate to scurvy last winter so she appointed me. Pen always stuck up for me when I first joined the crew, so she trusts me.

“Aye, Snow, move your sorry arse over here before I toss you to the kraken!” Penny, speak of the devil, calls from her cabin door.

Rhys left me and I realize I’d been staring off again. I’ve been doing it more often these past few days, though this time it isn’t for the same reason I usually was. “I’m coming, Pen!” I stood and went over to her cabin.

“What’s been wrong with you lately, Snow?” Penny asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“What do you mean?” I ask, glancing down so I don’t have to meet her eyes.

Penny looks at me funny, then pulls me into her cabin and shuts the door. “You’ve been acting weird since Donegal. Don’t think I didn’t notice your little disappearing act.”

I love Pen but she can still be scary at times. Sometimes I forget she’s still my captain, but she always puts me back in place (even though she has a soft spot for me she won’t deny). But I thought I’d managed to keep all that hidden from her. The marks on my neck were easy enough to hide and I never took off my tunic anyhow.

But she’s right. I’ve been distracted since Donegal. But how could I not be? The night in Donegal was . . . I don’t even know how to describe it. It was confusing, definitely. I want to know who he is, who he sails with, if I can see him again.

If he even remembers me. 

“Simon!” Penny snaps, and I know I did it again.

“Sorry, Pen,” I sigh.

Penny seems to size me up for a minute. “So who was it?”

“What?”

“You were obviously with someone and she obviously messed you up. Who was she?” Pen crosses her arms.

“I didn’t catch a name.” I say, doing my best to avoid lying but tell her as little as I can.

“Did she get yours?” Penelope frowns at me.

I shake my head. “It was just a one night stand, is all. Nothing worth talking about,” I lie. But it was so much more than  _ just a one night stand _ . Or it felt that way anyhow.

Memories wash over me. I hope I’m not blushing, or that Penny doesn’t notice it. Thinking about him—God, I wish I’d gotten his name—makes me feel warm all over. Getting his name would have been stupid, probably caused more harm than good, but I wish I knew it. It’s not fair to meet someone so unforgettable and not get to know who he is.

“Good, then you need to get your head on straight, all right?” Pen rests her hand on my shoulder. “We never know what’s going to happen out here. You  _ have _ to keep a clear mind.” 

Penny, for a moment, seems gentler with me, like when I first started sailing and had no idea what I was doing. She did that sometimes: talking to me like I was thick because I wasn’t born sailing. I don’t think she means to and I don’t mention it.

“Got it.” I say, looking down at my feet.

“Good,” Penny says again. She smiles and lets go of me. “Now, it’s your turn to man the crow’s nest. Move your sorry arse.” She orders me, but still sounds fond. I give her a salute and she rolls her eyes, opening the door and shoving me out.

I climb the rope ladder (Rhys has a flair for the dramatics) to the crow’s nest. Crow’s nest duty isn’t all that bad. It is kind of like time to myself, which is a rare thing these days. It’s mostly just sitting there.

I start thinking about what Penny said. Maybe she’s right and I need to let things go with Fiddle Boy. I might not ever even see him again. So what if he was a pirate? I’m not even sure if he was or if he’s something else entirely. Maybe I read too much into it all. Maybe Fiddle Boy wouldn’t even care if we saw each other again.

_ Get your head on straight. _

I shake my head like that will do any good. Then I notice something: a ship, not very far from our own. I grab the spyglass, standing and using it to get a better look. It’s not a ship I recognize, flying a flag with a red skeleton with devil horns holding a flame.

I ring the alarm bell. “Unknown ship!” I shout, climbing back down.

Penny is on deck, using her own spyglass. She swears under her breath. “That’s not an unknown ship, Snow. That’s  _ The Natasha _ .”

“The what?” I ask; the name sounds familiar but I don’t fully recognize it.

“Prepare for attack!” Penny shouts, “It’s bloody Pitch!”

I grab Penny’s arm. “Who the hell is Pitch?”

Penny sighs, “Only the most fearsome captain I’ve ever met. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch—even his name makes him sound like a posh bastard—is a longtime rival of mine, Snow.”

“Oh,” is all I can say. 

Gareth has taken to the crow’s nest, and calls down to us. “ _ The Natasha  _ is getting closer, Captain!”

Penny groans, “Gareth, get your arse down here and prepare the cannons!” 

Gareth clambors down from the crow’s nest, “But I thought those were last resort, Captain.”

“Just do what I fucking say.” Penny’s voice is dangerous, “You have no idea how ruthless Basilton Pitch really is. He’s notorious for burning defeated ships just for fun.” She shakes her head, “I don’t think any of us truly know what he’s capable of.”

The ship gets closer by the minute and it only seems to get faster.

“Simon, go get your sword. Basilton likes a show.” Penny says and I don’t ask questions because I’ve never seen her like this. I run to get my sword and by the time I’m back on deck,  _ The Natasha  _ is within a few metres of us. I see the captain standing at the prow and my knees nearly buckle beneath me.

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is a fearsome captain, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to fight him when I’ve felt his lips on mine. 

“Penelope Bunce,” he says dangerously from across the channel of water between us, “So we meet again.”

“Basilton,” she practically spits.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, as they’re too busy exchanging glares and doing nothing of the fighting sort. Then his eyes flicker to me. I see the look on his face change from impassive to surprised to impassive again in a matter of seconds. 

“And who, praytell, is this?” He motions to me. 

“My first mate, Simon Snow.” She introduces me with the same venom as before. I sense a trend with these two. 

“Simon,” he purrs, and his voice does things to me that I wish it didn’t have the power to do. Just like Penny said, he’s a posh bastard. An irresistible posh bastard. 

“Well, Captain,” he’s still staring at me even though he’s addressing Penny, and I can’t help but feel that he’s undressing me with his eyes. “You know I can’t just leave without a show. It would be unlike us.”

“Wouldn’t it be a shame,” she says, her voice saccharine. 

“It really would.” 

“Fine,” Penny spits, “One on one.”

“Me versus you?” He asks, “How cliche. I thought you were above that sort of thing, Captain.”

“Do you have a better idea,  _ Captain _ ?”

“Touché.” He looks towards me, “But I might actually.”

“Enlighten me then, Pitch.”

“Gladly, Bunce,” he says. “How about I fight your first mate over there,” he glances towards me, “Simon Snow was it?”

I freeze. Penny raises her brow, and looks over at me, hesitant.

“What are you getting at?” She asks warily.

“Oh?” it’s Basilton’s turn to be sugary, “Is he just a pretty face? Again, I thought that type of thing was far above you, Bunce.”

They keep talking about me like I’m not even here. I step forward. “I am not just a pretty face.” I say boldly, “And I’ll do it.” I look him directly in the eye, “I’ll fight him.”

The smirk on his face is enough to send heat coursing through my veins. This might just be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

“This might just be the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Penny tells me under her breath. “That man right there is the best fighter I know.”

“Might as well try,” I answer. 

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, get yourself killed and see if I care.”

“Oh, you’d miss me.” I say, “And that’s why I do not plan on dying.”

“Are you done with your little talk now?” Basilton asks, “Have we said all our goodbyes yet or will I have to wait even longer?”

“No goodbyes necessary!” Penny calls, “Board our ship, Pitch, but only you! If you bring any of your crewmembers with you, they’re good as dead.” 

Basilton laughs, “I doubt that, but I don’t want to disrupt any sacred rite of your ship.”

_ The Natasha  _ comes up to the side of our ship. Basilton steps straight over from one ship to the other. Not even taking Penny’s offered hand.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Basilton fixes me with an emotionless look. He recognizes me just as I recognize him, but here, that doesn’t mean anything. If he’s sorry for this, he doesn’t show it. But he isn’t. Pirates are never sorry. It really meant nothing to him, just as I figured.

He unsheathes his sword and takes ten steps back before facing me, but this time the look on his face is far from emotionless. He’s giving me the same look that he gave me on the dancefloor in Donegal. I’ll be damned if I admit that it’s affecting me. 

And then he lunges. 

I dodge out of the way, but then lunge towards him. To my annoyance he manages to parry my attack. 

“I am more than just a pretty face.” I hiss at him so only he can hear me. 

“Of course you are, darling.” he says, “You have plenty of hidden talents, all you need now is the right man to help you discover them.”

“Damn you, you’re good at this.” I say out loud, which I did not mean to do. He lunges for me again, but misses by a hair's breadth. 

“That  _ right man  _ I was talking about is me by the way.” He smirks at the scandalized look on my face.

“We can’t do anything like that! We’re supposed to be enemies!”

“What’s the fun in life without breaking the rules for pretty boys like yourself?” He queries, and I can’t see where he’s wrong. 

I take advantage of a momentary pause, driving him towards the set of stairs that leads to the wheel of the ship. Maybe then I can corner him. That’s the only way I’m going to be able to win this fight. I can’t beat him on sheer skill or luck, so I turn to strategy. 

To my surprise, Basilton just smirks at me and backs up the stairs, his gaze fixed on me all the way. It’s throwing me off my rhythm to say the least. 

He towers above me at the top of the stairs, and then he drops his sword. And pushes me backwards. I land on my arse like the undignified bastard Penny always says I am. Basilton pounces on top of me, pinning me to the ground. My sword lies forgotten, too far away for me to reach. 

“You just pushed me down the fucking stairs.” I practically spit in his face. In fact, a fleck of my saliva lands on his cheek. He doesn’t bother to brush it off. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He purrs, his lips dangerously close to the faded marks on my neck. My skin prickles as his breath washes over me. 

I gasp a little.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs, “we don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

He means Penny. I remember we are surrounded by my crew. And I’m supposed to be winning. Damn him straight to hell. 

“Looks like I’ve won this little show, doesn’t it?” He says, lips brushing my skin. 

I don’t respond. 

“Oh please, Snow, you can’t really think you’ve won. I’m conveniently on top of you, and your sword is out of your reach. Just admit it, love, you’ve lost.”

It’s the  _ love  _ that gets me. Gods, all I want right now is his lips on mine, but alas we’d probably get thrown overboard. 

“Fine,” I say, “but we are not finished here.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He gets to his feet and holds out a hand for me. I take it. We let our fingers brush for a second too long before looking away. 

He picks up his sword from the top of the stairs, quickly sheathing it. Then he walks over to Penny and gives her a slight bow. 

“Goodbye for now, Captain.”

Her eyes narrow, “Get off my ship.”

“Always the charmer,” he shakes his head a little and then turns to me, “Lovely to make your acquaintance, Simon Snow. I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

He winks at me.

Fuck that posh bastard.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's your favorite quote from the fic so far?


	4. chapter three

**chapter 3**

**_Leith, Scotland - 1718_ **

**penelope**

“Good God, Simon! Do you ever stop looking off into space these days?” I snap at him, and he looks up at me in surprise. “We’re here in Leith. The place where some of the most famous pirates were raised and hanged. This city is dangerous, but beautiful. And you can’t be staring off into space like you’ve lost it.”

“I haven’t lost it!” he says, like a liar, but I’m not in the mood to grill him. 

“Maybe you should stay on the ship tonight?” I offer. 

“No.” he says quickly, “I’m fine. I’ll go out.”

He says it too quickly not to have an ulterior motive. 

“Right, Penny.” he interrupts me before I have the chance to question him. “I’ll be going now.” He walks down the gangplank and into the night. 

I start walking back to my quarters to change out of my Captain’s garb, when I hear Simon’s voice again. 

“Penny!” he calls, “Penny this is urgent!”

I turn around. “What do you need?”

“It’s Basilton, and  _ The Natasha _ , they’re here.”

My eyes widen, “Here. In Leith. Fuck, Simon, we really can’t catch a break, can we?”

“Apparently we can’t.” he says softly, “I’m going to scope out the bars. See where they are, so we can stay away.”

“Good.” I hiss through my teeth. “I don’t want to see another one of those bastards as long as I live.”

He nods jerkily, “Got it.”

 

**simon**

I walk into the first bar I see, and it’s crawling with Basilton’s crew. I recognize them from Penny’s descriptions, and of course the little show. But I don’t see the mysterious Captain anywhere. 

When I walk outside, Penny ambushes me, “Have you seen any of them yet?”

“All in there.” I gesture over my shoulder, “Find another place for a pint. I’m heading back to the ship.”

She looks rather surprised, but follows my instructions and wanders up the street. Contrary to what I said, I have no plans to go back to the ship tonight. Well, I have plans to go to a ship, but not  _ The Magick _ . I think it’s time I pay a visit to the captain of  _ The Natasha _ . 

I sneak up the gangplank of Basil’s ship, stepping as lightly as I possibly can. There’s a light on in what I hope is the Captain’s quarters. 

Almost instinctively, I rap on the door. 

It opens to reveal Basilton in all of his glory. He’s in his captain’s uniform rather than the plainer clothes I’ve seen him in before. He looks absolutely divine with the light from his rooms shining behind him. 

“Divine, Snow?” he asks, and I realize my mouth is open and I have just spoken aloud. “That’s really not the word I would use to describe myself.”

He steps aside to allow me into his quarters, which are far more lavishly decorated than Penny’s. He closes the door behind us, trapping me, but I’m not afraid of him. 

“You see, Simon,” he says, brushing his fingers along my chin, “I’m really the opposite of divine. I’m the Devil’s confidant, probably the wickedest man you could possibly seek out. And yet that’s exactly what you’ve done.”

I don’t speak, just stare at him. Words just aren’t coming to my lips anymore. 

“So I have to ask, darling. Do you have some sort of death wish? Here you are, ready to fall into bed with wickedness incarnate, and all you can do is stare me in the eye.” 

He pulls me towards him, his fingers flirting with the hem of my tunic. “You play a dangerous game, Simon Snow, a very dangerous game indeed.”

“I want this.” I blurt out, “This dangerous game or whatever. You’re all I can think about, Basilton—”

“Baz,” he says. 

“What?”

“Call me Baz.”

I pause, flustered, “You’re all I can think about, Baz. You’ve been on my mind since Donegal. This isn’t just a one time thing. I don’t care that you believe you’re some wicked beast. Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t, it doesn’t matter to me. I want you, okay?”

“You’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met.” He says softly, almost admirably, and then he kisses me. It’s a bruising kiss, the kind of kiss that sweeps you off your feet. The kind of kiss that ends in swollen lips, messy hair, and hastily discarded clothing. 

And Gods, do I want it all. 

 

**basilton**

“Are you ready to fall into bed with the Devil?” I ask Simon when we finally part for a breath. Our shirts are undone, and I’ve been rid of most of my Captain’s uniform by now. 

He lifts his chin like the stubborn bastard that he is, “Of course I am. That’s what I came for.” 

We’re on my bed in seconds, and I take to remaking the marks I left on his neck. 

“Wait,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “don’t make marks where people can see them. Penny got suspicious last time.”

“Well, I’ll just have to mark my territory in places where only I can see.” I purr, enjoying watching him shiver. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“Isn’t all of this?” He replies, raising an eyebrow.

I laugh, “One helluva secret. It’s almost easier thinking of this as a million little secrets. Seems less threatening that way.”

“We can always pretend it’s just us.” He suggests, “There’s nothing outside of this room. Let the rest of the world disappear.”

“That might just be the most eloquent thing you’ve ever said.” I give him a peck on the cheek. 

He rolls his eyes, “You really don’t have that much faith in me, do you?”

“Of course I do!” I protest. 

“Weren’t we in the middle of something?” He lets his fingers trail down my spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“I think we were.” I reach over to pull his tunic over his head. I turn us so he's on top of me and I run my fingers up his spine like he did to me. I stop, feeling a scar, raised and jagged, at the small of his back. I wonder how I hadn’t noticed it before.

Simon flinches, rather fiercely, eyes screwing shut. It must be a fresh scar, a battle he lost.

“How’d you earn those, Snow? Who kicked your ass?” I tease him.

Simon doesn’t look sheepish. He sighs and almost seems . . . relieved. It takes him a moment and a completely unnatural snort leaves him. “Just a forgettable cutpurse who knew how to use a dagger.”

“They stabbed you?”

“I never said he was good with the dagger. He was going for my belt. Now, is this really important right now?” Simon raises an eyebrow. His voice is tight and his eyes pleading. He’s lying. He’s bad at it, too, and it amazes me that he’s survived as a pirate.

I want to challenge him, call him out and ask what really happened. But he doesn’t owe me any explanations right now. He snuck onto my ship, I could at least make the experience enjoyable.

But Simon is shaking now, barely. He probably thinks I don’t notice, but it’s hard to ignore when he’s sitting on top of me.

“Back to the important things, then.” I pull Simon back down to kiss him to hopefully distract him. I run my hand farther up his back and there’s another, a second scar that feels almost identical to the first, next to his shoulder blade. Simon flinches again, less noticeably, and neither of us mentions the scar. Morbidly curious, I feel the spot at his other shoulder blade and there’s another, a scar that matches the second one. 

My mind whirls. This was obviously no cutpurse. The scars are too planned, too precise to be from some sword fight. Someone hurt Simon, deliberately. 

His lips find mine again and I struggle not to push him off, to ask a million questions. I want to know everything. But Simon isn’t going to tell me anything. Now we’re dancing around each other and Simon wasted this trip, risked getting in serious trouble to be here, and we ruined it. He needs to leave. It wouldn’t be worth it to get in trouble for this, and I don’t want to pretend like I don’t have the urge to demand answers from him.

“Simon,” I say quietly, gently pushing him off me.

“Yeah?” Simon looks confused, his lips still slightly parted, and his tunic on the floor. He’s a gorgeous mess, but we can both feel how the atmosphere changed as soon as he flinched the first time.

“You should go.” I sit up, trying to ease him off of me. He doesn’t go easy. 

“What?” hurt fills his voice, and fills me in turn. 

“I don’t want my crew to catch you here.” I try to explain. I’m not going to tell him the full reason.

“They won’t be back for a few more hours.” Simon says, tone accusatory. I hesitate too long to answer, and his gaze hardens as he climbs off of me. “And I don’t have to tell you anything, Basilton.” He turns to grab his tunic and I know he feels my eyes on him as I study the scars. They’re big, just as jagged as they’d seemed. The way they’re raised, I know they weren’t treated properly and didn’t heal right. Simon moves faster.

I stand, “Simon, that’s not what I mean.” I try to take his arm but he shakes me off.

“Damn you, Pitch, I know exactly what you meant. I don’t have to tell you anything.” He repeats, and I swear his eyes brim with tears but he blinks before I can be sure. “So if you wanna kick me out, even after I risked this for you, fine. But I don’t owe you any explanations.” He’s basically spitting at me, glaring and breathing hard. He’s pulled on his tunic and before I can get another word out, he’s gone, slamming the cabin door behind him.

 

**simon**

It’s cold and raining and I’m freezing, but I’ll be damned if I go back to  _ The Natasha  _ or  _ The Magick.  _ So I go back to where I first met Baz. 

There’s a pub with fiddle music pouring into the street, and I walk in. The player onstage is playing one of the reels that Baz was playing. I feel a ridiculous sense of ownership. That boy does not  _ deserve  _ to play tunes that Baz fingers have touched. This boy is not good enough for them.  

I let it go. I came to get drunk, not to get more angry. 

“One pint please.” I tell the bartender, who looks bored out of his mind, and is probably wasted himself. 

I choke down the ale, even though it tastes awful. 

Then I make eye contact with the fiddle player. He smiles at me, and bile rises in my throat. I can’t be here. I can’t do this. I pull a few coins from my pocket and leave it on the counter before running out of the pub and into the street. 

Waves of nausea roll over me. My feet lead me into an alleyway a few feet away. My stomach is churning. And I don’t even know why. 

All I can think about is Baz. I don’t want to think about Baz. I don’t want to think about how he pushed me away when he felt my scars. Or how he seemed annoyed when I lied to him, like I owed him answers. But most of all I don’t want to think about how good it felt before then, when he was kissing me, when he pulled me into bed with him. 

I don’t want to think about him at all.

And I’m definitely not thinking about Davy.

I bend over in the alley and empty the contents of my stomach on the cobblestones. I’m an absolute mess.

“Simon?” a voice comes from the mouth of the alley.

I freeze, dread making me feel sick all over again.

Penny’s voice comes again, “Simon?”

I force myself to lift my head and look at her. The look on her face is surprised more than anything else, but I can sense disappointment there too. 

“Simon, are you okay?” she walks towards me and I cower against the wall. Terrified that somehow, just with a look, she will figure out everything.

Penny looks as disoriented as I feel.

“Simon,” she says again, and this time her voice is dripping with something like pity. I feel my stomach start churning again.

She takes my hand, almost gently, and her touch reminds me of Baz. Exactly the person I don’t need to be thinking about right now. 

“Come back to the ship with me.” She says, speaking gently as if I might spook like a frightened animal.

I almost shake my head, but then I wonder why I’m fighting. I was scared of Penny finding me like I was, but now she’s found me while I’m worse. But Penny still wants me. So I let Penny lead me back to  _ The Magick _ . 

“Get some rest,” she says softly, “and don’t worry about getting up at dawn. We’ll be out at sea before I force you out of your bed.”

It might just be the kindest thing she’s ever done for me. “Thank you, Penny,” I say, even though my back is to her. I can’t face her like this.

She whispers a goodnight and closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely beans,  
> thank you for reading!! 
> 
> comments and kudos make our day. :)


	5. chapter four

**chapter 4**

**_Siren Territory - 1718_ **

**penelope**

It’s barely dawn when I help Rhys and Gareth maneuver  _ The Magick  _ out of Leith’s harbor. I can hardly believe I managed it, as my head is pounding. I drank way too much last night, and my crew seems far too chipper for a morning like this one. 

“I think I’m going to pass out if I even try to be an effective Captain right now.” I tell them. “Can you guys handle the ship for a few hours?”

“Aye, Captain!” they say in unison.

I leave Rhys and Gareth in charge and stumble down to the cabins that are split between Simon and I. I stop in front of Simon’s door, unsure of what to do. I don’t know what’s going on with him these days. First he’s always out of it, now he’s gotten loaded to the gunnels and probably would have passed out in that alley if I hadn’t found him. I expected things like this from him before when we took him in, when he was the small, sad kid from Wales, but soon he proved to be very different than my expectations. But now he’s an entirely different person.

I listen at his door for a moment, but there’s only silence. I decide not to bother him. I’ve found that the best cure for this type of thing is a good night’s sleep.

I wonder what happened in Donegal, if it has anything to do with why he left Wales. Why he’s acting so bizzare. I want to know where my Simon has gone.

“Captain!” Rhys shouts from the deck.

I roll my eyes, apparently they’ve already messed things up. And I had such high hopes. I return to the deck. “What happened?”

“We’re in Siren territory!” Gareth cries out, his knuckles white against the railing.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter. I take my tunic in my hands and rip off a strip of the fabric. “Rip a piece of fabric off your tunic and put it into your ears. That way it’s harder for the Sirens to get you.”

Thankfully, they follow my instructions. Rhys, Gareth, and I stay on deck to manage the ship while the rest of the crew goes below deck. We manage to steer the ship into semi-calm waters, but not before I see one of them: a Siren. 

She’s sitting on a jagged rock, brushing her long blonde hair out of her face with a seashell comb. Her mouth is parted in what I’m sure is a song of gorgeous savagery. She seems to notice that our crew is resisting her and she frowns. She starts singing again, and this time a few of the notes make their way through my cotton-stuffed ears. 

I see the eyes of my crew widen, their interests piqued. I grab Rhys and Gareth’s hands, trying to pull them back from the helm.

The Siren frowns again, baring razor sharp teeth to us before sliding off her rock and under the water. She is still singing, and it carries through the water around us, until the ship is practically vibrating. 

“LISTEN TO ME!” I shout, hoping that my voice reaches Rhys and Gareth, “WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.” 

I grip the wheel like my life depends on it. Rhys and Gareth help me steer ourselves out of range of the Siren. When I look back, her eyes are narrowed, but she doesn’t dare follow us. 

“That was close,” Gareth gasps out.

“Understatement of the century.” I counter. 

“We could’ve been killed!” Rhys exclaims, pulling cloth from his ears.

“And it would have been you two’s bloody fault!” I turn on them, relief giving way to annoyance. “I leave you in charge for five minutes and you feed us to the sirens! There’s enough problems going on without the two of you making fish food out of my crew! Both of you are on crow’s nest duty  _ and  _ swabbing for the next two nights. Do I make myself clear?”

Rhys and Gareth hang their heads like kicked dogs. “Aye, Captain,” they say in unison.

“Good,” I sigh, “I’m going to get the rest of the crew.”

I make my way to Simon’s room and knock on his door. “Simon, you need to wake up now.” 

The door opens, and sleep doesn’t seem to have done anything for him. There are dark circles under his eyes, his curls are a mess, and his eyes look empty and haunted. He seems almost as miserable as when I first met him in London, if not more. 

“I need to tell you something.” I explain. 

He leans against the doorframe, looking as if he might fall over if he was forced to stand upright on his own. 

“What is it?” even his voice is sluggish. 

“While you were asleep, I left Rhys and Gareth in charge of the ship,” I pause there to gauge his reaction, but his face is impassive, “and they managed to get us stuck in Siren Territory.”

His face completely changes at that, “What?!” He practically shouts, “They got us stuck in Siren Territory?!”

“Yes, Simon, and I managed to get us out. I know how dangerous it could’ve been, but it’s all okay now.”

Emotions keep flashing across Simon’s face at an alarming rate. Tears of what I think is frustration start pooling in his eyes, overflowing onto his pale cheeks. He wipes them away with the back of his hand.

“Simon, it’s fine. No one got hurt.” I try to assure him, but it doesn’t help. I have no idea what’s making him so upset. I have no idea how to help him. “Simon? Did something happen last night? You were so wrecked and—”

“You have no idea what this means, Penelope.” He sounds empty, and he never calls me Penelope. “You have no idea!” 

He’s full-on crying now. 

He sinks to the ground, putting his head in his hands. I’m frozen; I have no idea what to do in a situation like this. So I do what I’m good at: I ask questions. 

“Does this have anything to do with how weird you’ve been acting lately?” I ask him, “Anything that relates to that night in Donegal? What’s even happening to you, Simon? What’s going on?”

He gets to his feet, glaring at me through teary eyes. 

“Simon, you need to tell me. I’m your captain, your best friend, and—” 

He shuts the door in my face. 

 

**simon**

I can still hear Penny’s indignant shouts as I sit down on the bed. All I dreamt of was Baz. His lips on my neck, his hands all over me, every rough, bruising kiss he gave me . . . everything. And then when it all fell apart. I slept for hours, but it felt like seconds. And I feel exhausted. As if I’d really spent all night with Baz. 

And then Penny comes and says that while I was dreaming those dreams, our ship was caught in Siren Territory. Siren territory is dangerous for a number of reasons; there’s the obvious, and then there’s the dreams. Siren dreams are always about whatever you want most at the time, or they’re nightmares.

Mine seemed to be a mix of both.

Our fight was brutal, but before that everything felt blissful. Just like what I’m still craving from him.

“Simon!” Penny tries again after falling silent for a few minutes. I don’t know what to say to her but I don’t have the energy to lie to her. Maybe I just won’t talk about it, or even think about it.

I wipe away any tears that are left and stand up. I take deep breaths and I’m not thinking about Baz or kisses or scars or Davy.

I open the door and Penny looks shocked, even more so when I do my best to smile at her. “We should probably get on deck, don’t you think?” Penny stares at me like she’s seen a ghost. “No time to waste, Pen.” With that, I push past her up the steps to head above deck, hoping I don’t look too much a mess.

Thank the Gods she doesn’t challenge me any further. I don’t know if I would be able to keep my mouth shut. I want to tell her. I trust Penny and I love her. But this isn’t something that’s easy to talk about. She’d be angry, probably, definitely disappointed.

We go above deck and Penny starts barking orders, whipping everyone into shape. I stay at her side, silent and doing my best to avoid lingering glances. Penny keeps looking over at me like she thinks I might break again. And I’m not sure I won’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've listened to the playlist, what's your favorite song?
> 
> what do you think Simon's going to do next?


	6. chapter five

**chapter 5**

**_Aberdeen, Scotland - 1718_ **

**simon**

We dock in Aberdeen’s harbor around midnight, and we’re all exhausted. After Siren Territory all we’ve done is sail, practically nonstop. Penny looks as if she’s about to pass out.

“C’mon, crew!” She calls, “Let’s call it a night. All of you had better get some rest.”

The rest of the crew heads below decks, but Penny walks over to where I’m leaning on the railing.

“Simon, you have to sleep.” She says.

“I will.” I assure her, “But I’m going to stay out here for a bit. Get some air.”

She sighs, but nods. “‘Night, Simon.”

“Goodnight, Penny.”

She turns away from me and makes her way to the Captain’s Cabin; she doesn’t look back.

I pace around the deck, letting my feet carry me from railing to railing, from the sea to the docks and back again. And then I notice it. It being _The Natasha_ , docked a few ships away from us.

_Maybe . . ._

For minute, I’m hopeful, maybe Baz will take me back. Kiss me, hold me, take care of me. I shouldn’t want him to, but I do. Probably more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. I still want to yell at him and be angry, but that’s a lot less tempting.

I shouldn’t do it, not again, but that doesn’t stop me from creeping off the boat and to the docks. It’s late and Baz’s crew will—hopefully—be asleep. I can just sneak to Baz’s cabin and talk to him, or kiss him, whichever comes first.

Again, it’s easy to slip _onto_ Baz’s ship. I start to climb the gangplank, and then crouch behind a barrel, listening for footsteps. I slip out, only to find myself face to face with a member of Baz’s crew.

 

**basilton**

“Captain!” There’s a shout from outside my cabin door, followed by a sharp knock. I open the door.

“Gods, Kelly, what is it?” I lean against the doorframe. Niall, my first mate, looks annoyed.

“We’ve got a picaroon who snuck on board.” Niall explains, jerking his thumb behind him. “Dev’s got him back on deck.”

I almost laugh. “What sort of idiot tried to sneak on my ship?”

Niall shrugs, “He’s wearing Bunce’s ring.”

Oh. It’s my idiot. Well, perhaps not mine at the moment.

I keep my voice passive. “Oh? Bring him to me. I’m sure it’s something of Bunce’s doing.”

“Aye, Captain,” Niall disappears, returning moments later with Dev, who is practically dragging Simon by the collar. I smirk. Simon isn’t fighting them, but he’s got his jaw locked and he’s glaring at the floor.

“Just drop him. I’ll handle it.” I wave my hand dismissively. Dev and Niall trade glances, whether nervous or excited I can’t tell, but they don’t dispute me. They wouldn’t dare. They leave and I wait until I can’t hear their footsteps anymore.

Simon gets to his feet, brushing dust from his trousers, and looks up at me.

“We meet again.” I say softly, not trusting that my crew is out of earshot.

“I have to talk to you,” he says, “now.”

“Disappointing you’re only interested in talking,” I say. This doesn’t amuse him so I sober up, pulling him into my chambers and shutting the door behind us. “What do you need to tell me?” I ask, but before I can get much farther he slams his lips into mine.

When he finally lets me breathe, I speak again, “Oh? I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses.

“Maybe, but only if you tell me where you got those scars from.”

He shoves me away. “Don’t start with that, Pitch.”

“What should I start with instead? Why else would you be here? You’ve gone to a lot of trouble if all you want is another snog. I’ve got to punish you somehow to appease my crew. I’m still captain, Snow.”

“Fine, _Captain_.” He says, “Whatcha gonna do to me then?”

He’s glaring at me, but somehow it doesn’t feel angry. This might be fun. He crosses his arms over his chest. Maybe I read this situation wrong.

“Push me down the stairs again?” He asks, almost teasing.

I roll my eyes, “No.”

“What then? Penny would have your head if you actually hurt me.”

This gives me an idea. “Exactly, so we ransom you.”

“You what?!”

“Was I not clear enough?” I ask him, “Need I repeat myself? You stay safe, and my crew gets paid. It’s a fantastic plan, Snow. That, or I could keelhaul you. But you’re right, you’re valuable, and far too pretty to waste. Besides, wouldn’t you like to spend some time here? You seem to keep coming back.”

“Fuck you.” He says it with less venom this time.

“Are you going to keep saying that? If you want to you can just ask.”

He grins, “Maybe I will.”

We stand in almost comfortable silence, just looking at each other, until Simon breaks our little trance. “There is actually something else I need to tell you.”

“Oh?” I tilt my head quizzically.

“After Leith we got stuck in Siren Territory,” he says.

“What?” I frown, “Were you hurt?”

He shakes his head, though he smiles a little. “No. I was feeling awful, so I was asleep, but I had dreams, Baz.” He pauses, as if he’s nervous to continue.

“What kind of dreams, Simon?” I prompt him.

He looks up at me, “I dreamt of you. The whole time.”

My eyes widen, “Oh? So, I’m—”

“The person I desire most?” He finishes for me, “Yes.”

It amazes me. Simon is being open and vulnerable almost without a second thought. And yet he refuses to talk about those scars. I decide to let off about them for a little bit. We’ve got time now.

“Have anything to ask me, Snow?” I perch myself on the edge of my desk.

“What?” Simon looks confused, and then it clicks, “Ohhh. Baz!”

I raise my eyebrow, “We have plenty of time, love. Might as well make use of it. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing; I am the person you desire most, right?”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Do you solve every single thing with shagging or what?”

“It solves many problems.”

“Do I want to know the stories behind what you just said or not?” He asks.

I pick at my fingernails, “Nah, you’d probably be too scandalized.” I grin, “But you could always find out for yourself.”

Simon just shakes his head, half smiling and trying to hide his blush. “So, I’m being held hostage?”

“Well, somewhat,” I stand again and lift his chin. “Let’s call this a mutual agreement. You and I get more than stolen snatches of time and neither of our crews have to know.”

“Works for me,” he says, staring unabashedly at my lips. “I just have one request.”

“What can I do for you, pretty boy?”

“Kiss me.” He breathes, “Please.”

“Begging? Really, Snow? I thought you were above that.” He huffs a little, “But thankfully, you make a very good case.”

I brush my lips against his, waiting for him to make the next move. He does, deepening the kiss and leading me towards my bed. I don’t object, pushing him down into the sheets and straddling his lap.

He grins up at me, a challenging look in his eyes. This will be very fun indeed.  

 

“Well, what are we doing about the lad?” Niall asks as I emerge above deck, hoping I don’t look as disheveled as I feel. Simon and I did a lot more kissing than talking for the rest of my _interrogation_. He’s dozing on my bed now as it’s nearly three in the morning. Niall is the only one left awake of the crew.

“Ransom,” I answer. “He’s Bunce’s first mate. I figured Bunce would pay well for him.”

“ _The Magick_ is only a few ships down. Surely he’ll be off our hands by nightfall tomorrow and we’ll be paid handsomely?” Niall says.

“Paid handsomely, yes. Nightfall tomorrow, no. I want to toy with my old friend a bit. You go deliver my ransom note. Then we set sail.”

Niall looks concerned, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Baz? I don’t think we’ve ever risked the wrath of Penelope Bunce so brazenly.”

He’s right, but I don’t care. I’m a selfish bastard at heart, and all I want right now is Simon to myself. “I can handle it.” I tell him, “Don’t worry.”

He sighs, “Have you written the note?”

I hand it to him. It’s written on my finest stationery, and sealed with red wax. I’ve decided to leave the letter anonymous. Even though I know she’ll know it was me if she takes a mere second to think, but it’s more fun this way. I’ll have Niall sneak it onto their ship, while avoiding detection. If they were just in Siren Territory, the whole crew will be exhausted. It won’t be difficult at all. Plus, Niall is pretty good at sneaking around.

“Leave this at the top of their gangplank, and be back as quickly as you can be. We leave in an hour.”

Niall nods and slips away into the darkness.

I return to my chambers to catch a few more minutes of sleep before the sure-to-be-long night ahead of us. Simon stirs a little when I lay down next to him, but he doesn’t actually wake up. In his sleep, he wraps his arms around me. Soon, his soft breathing lulls me to sleep. I could get used to this.

All too soon, Niall is knocking on my door, forcing me to get out of my cocoon before he finds my unlikely bedmate.

“Was there any trouble?” I ask him.

“None at all.” He answers, “All peaceful for the time being.”

“For the time being indeed,” I say.

As we glide out of the harbor and into the wide open ocean, I steal one last look at the receding lights of Aberdeen, imagining what my dear friend Penelope is going to wake up to in a few short hours. By that time, we’ll be long gone.

I almost feel bad for her, but then again: I don’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's your favorite part so far?


	7. chapter six

**chapter 6**

**_The Magick & The Natasha - 1718_ **

**penelope**

“Penelope! Penelope!” Rhys scurries up under the crow’s nest, waving a piece of parchment.

“What is it, Rhys?” I ask, still slightly cross over our run in with the sirens.

“It’s about Simon!”

“What?” I start climbing down the rope. “What about Simon?”

“He’s been taken hostage.” Rhys pants, shoving the letter at me.

 _“What?!”_ I shriek, nearly ripping it from his hands.

_Dearest Penelope,_

_I regret to inform you that your lovely first mate has fallen into my possession. He will come to no harm under my care; he’s far too pretty. But you will have to pay for his return. A price will be agreed upon during negotiations. I anticipate your arrival, Captain, when you finally catch up._

I almost empty my stomach right on the deck.

“Pitch,” I growl. “It was Basilton, of course it was Basilton!” I worry for Simon. He can hold his own, but he’s on a rival ship whose crew is famous for their cruelty. I don’t trust that Simon will remain unharmed. We have to get him back. “Pull up the anchor, Rhys, we’re gonna catch that goddamn ship if it’s the last thing we do.”

“But let’s hope it won’t be,” Rhys mutters, going to get help for the anchor.

I pace as I wait for the ship to be readied. I wonder, did Simon have some idea this would happen? Is that why he’s been acting so weird? Is that where he disappeared to and why he drank so much? Had Basilton threatened him?

I lean over the side of _The Magick_ and vomit until I am dry heaving. The thought of Basilton hurting Simon terrifies me more than I’d like to admit. I’ll always be protective over him.

 

**basilton**

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I decide what’s a good idea, Snow.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Since when did you become the sensible one?” I sigh, looking up from the buttons of my jacket. I’m trying to get dressed in order to address my crew and Simon persists arguing with my ideas.

Simon rolls his eyes and reaches over to finish my buttons as he speaks. “I’m only saying that your crew is going to think it odd that your hostage is sharing your quarters.”

“Well perhaps I’m the only one who can control you in any way?” I say it like a question and he laughs.

“We’ll see about that. Now go talk to your crew and be a good Captain.”

“Excuse me, I’m the _best_ captain.”

Simon grunts, but doesn’t dispute me.

“You ought to be nice to me, Snow. You are still my hostage, after all.” I remind him, though I'm only teasing.

Simon rolls his eyes again, dramatically. “If you say so, Pitch.” He says before kissing me.

“Don’t distract me, Snow. I have a job to do.” I scold when he lets me breathe.

“Then you should be less distracting,” Simon retorts. Then, he practically shoves me out the door.

“Right, Baz,” says Niall when I make my way to my crew, who are all standing on the the deck, apparently waiting for me. “We need to know what we’re doing about our little hostage situation.”

“We don’t have enough room for him to stay in our cabins.” Dev points out.

“He’s right,” Niall agrees. “Where is he gonna stay?”

This is my chance. “In my quarters, obviously. He can sleep on the floor; I have extra blankets and things. Plus, it’s the easiest way to keep an eye on him.” It’s ridiculously difficult to leave out all of the true reasons why Simon is staying with me, but I manage not to blow my cover.

“Fair enough,” says Niall, “as long as we’re not bothered by him.”

“Oh, you won’t be.” I tell them, “What are you all standing around for? Get back to work.”

As my crewmembers return to their positions, I turn and see Niall still staring at me.

“What is it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Basil?” I’m tired of hearing that today. “He’s one of Bunce’s and you’re keeping him in _your_ quarters.”

“Please, nothing can sneak up on me, Kelly. I’ve got it all handled.” I wave away his concerns. “Bunce’s scrappy first mate isn’t going to feed me to the fish. He’s clearly not the brightest of her crew if he ended up here.” In other words: that gorgeous idiot is not going anywhere.

Niall snorts a laugh. “Well, if you’re sure you’ve got it all under control . . .”

“Of course I’m sure, Kelly. Now quit worrying or I’ll make you scrape the barnacles off the hull.”

 

**simon**

I am starving.

If Baz doesn’t get back from his little crew meeting, I think I might actually perish.

Baz left me a little while ago to handle business on deck and I’ve been stuck here in his quarters. It has not been as exciting as I hoped, being Baz’s hostage. Then again, it’s only been a day.

There’s a sharp knock and for a moment I’m worried that a member of Baz’s crew is going to find me lounging in Baz’s bed, when Baz sticks his head in. “You hungry, Snow?”

“ _Gods,_ yes,” I sit up. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“Working, Snow,” Baz laughs. “Do you want to sup with the crew or not?”

“Will they be too happy about that?”

“They don't have a choice. Come on, love, let’s eat.”

I stand, following Baz upstairs, and trying not to go too red when he calls me _love._ He’s done it a few times and really, it doesn’t mean anything. But it’s always been teasing. This time he said it nonchalantly. I don’t know what to think about it, so I don’t.

Baz’s crew looks surprised to see me, many of them taking inventory of me. I lock my jaw and glare at them all, not sure how else to deal with it.

“Come on, you’ve all got better things to do than ogle the hostage.” Baz snaps his fingers and the crew continues eating. For once, things feel familiar, because dinner is hardtack. Particularly flavorless, but food.

I sit beside Baz and the crew in a circle on the deck. The crew eats and plays card games. They gamble, which our crew doesn’t do, and more than one crew member gets a piece of hardtack thrown at them.

Eventually Baz joins in and calls off gambling. He nudges me. “Do you play, Snow?”

The crew all look to me, none of them looking particularly hostile, so I answer, “Yes, though I don’t know if I’m any good.”

“Even better,” a man next to Baz with bright red hair and green eyes says.

“Pipe down, Niall, we aren’t gambling now.”

I look at Baz, and then at the other man, Niall. “Actually, maybe we should.”

Baz looks at me like I’m crazy. “Simon, you have nothing to gamble with!”

Niall smirks, “Really, Baz? Why not? He’s on our ship, might as well take part in some of our traditions while he’s here.”

“He doesn’t have anything to gamble with, Niall. It’s not happening,” Baz hisses.

“I wouldn't say that.” Niall retorts, “What about that ring, Snow?”

“No fucking way,” Baz and I say at the same time.

“I am not giving up this ring.” I snap, “We’re not gambling. Forget I said anything.” I fix Niall with a glare for good measure.

Baz lets his hand brush gently against my leg in silent gratitude.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” he says, “You coming, Snow?”

I breathe a small sigh of relief and nod. He pushes me in front of him, sending last glares back at his crew before he follows me to his cabin. He shuts the door behind us before turning to me.

“You’re an idiot, Snow,” he says, but continues before I can get offended, “a gorgeous idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened out there? My crew would’ve ripped you to shreds. I almost exposed all of our little secrets trying to save your arse.”

Maybe I’m a little offended.

He shakes his head a little, “I’m sorry, Simon, this is just stressing me out.”

“Our million little secrets?” I ask.

“Yes,” he sits down on his bed. “We can’t let them find out. They’ll hate me for lying to them, and they’ll probably toss you overboard.”

“I’m almost flattered that you’re still concerned for my safety after calling me an idiot so many times.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You are one.” He says with a small smile, “But you’re not any run of the mill idiot, you’re my idiot. My beautiful, ridiculous, courageous idiot. Somehow one snog managed to get us into this whole mess, and we might as well make the best of it because you’re here now, and you’re not going anywhere—”

I grab his face and kiss him. Just to make him shut up, and also because he looks so kissable all the time.

“Why’d you do that!” He exclaims, “I was in the middle of a speech.”

“Oh, I’m just making the best of our time, darling. Isn’t that what your little tangent was all about?” I tease.

“Quit talking so much.” He orders, roughly slamming his lips against mine.

Soon enough, his lips start travelling down the slope of my neck, as he said: marking his territory. I try to hold back any sound of pleasure that bubbles up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but after a few short minutes I can no longer stand it.

 

**basilton**

In the beginning, Simon was actively trying not to make any noise, but now he’s given up all of his inhibitions. The sounds dripping from his lips are made of pure sin, and they’re slowly ruining me.

He coaches me back to his lips as he starts painstakingly unbuttoning my coat. But his hands reach my chest and he pushes me back, lightly.

“Baz,” he breathes, and I hear it there. He’s watching me warily, and we both wordlessly acknowledge where this went last time. We both know that if we keep going, his scars will show and even if we don’t say anything, we both know they’re there. The weight of it will ruin it all. I almost miss our first midnight tryst when nothing was this complicated.

“It’s alright, love,” I say softly. And we say nothing else about it. I’m willing to give Simon his space and let him keep his secrets, but I can’t help wondering how long this will be a hindrance to us.

Simon reaches down and laces our fingers. His cheeks have gone a bright red since I spoke.

“What are you blushing about?” I ask, cupping Simon’s cheek with my free hand. Simon shakes his head but I nudge his nose with my own. “Come on, love, what is it?” I prompt.

 _“That_ ,” is Simon’s reply.

“What is _that_?”

“Say it again…” he breathes. “Call me that again.”

“What? _Love?_ ” I raise an eyebrow as his cheeks seem to get redder (if that’s even possible). Simon nods and I laugh despite myself. “You, love, are absolutely adorable.”

He frowns, or tries to, anyway. “Hush, I’ve never . . .” He trails off like he’s embarrassed.

“What? You didn’t drive the lads on _The Magick_ wild?”

Simon just laughs and shakes his head.

“Hm, better chances for me I suppose.” I smile and kiss him again, softer this time.

“Trust me, you have no competition.” Simon says when we part.

“I hope not,” I smirk, “you wouldn’t want to make me jealous.”

“Well now I want to!”

“Just don’t go to any trouble, love.” I fix him with a look. He rolls his eyes and blushes again, though less intensely than before.

Simon presses his face into my chest and I become aware of just how much shorter than me he is. I remind myself to tease him for it later, but right now I am enjoying this too much.

Holding Simon feels right, like he was meant to be in my arms. I tell him as much.

“This feels right.” I whisper as I kiss the top of his head.

“Yes,” he says softly, “yes it does.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lovely readers! we'll be on a little hiatus until next weekend because your favorite authors (us) are all hella busy/going out of town. stay tuned for more content next weekend! 
> 
> ps. express your disappointment in the comments because we can still check those.


	8. chapter seven

**chapter 7**

**_Inverbervie, Scotland - 1718_ **

**basilton**

“Baz?” Simon asks, “Are you really going to give me up that easily? This meeting with Penny doesn’t seem like your style.”

I smirk, “I have no intention of giving you up just yet, love. You’re still mine for a little while longer.”

Last night, _The Magick_ caught up with us. Via shouting, Niall and a member of Bunce’s crew came to an agreement that Bunce and I would meet at a pub here in Inverbervie to discuss Simon’s return; there won’t be a return yet, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Then what’s your plan?” Simon says, crossing his arms.

“None of your concern, Snow.”

“It is about _my_ ransom.” Simon points out.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to know about it,” I reply. “It’s not like you get a say.”

Simon huffs (which he does quite often) but doesn’t argue with me. In the three short days I’ve had Simon onboard, I’ve learned a few things about him. He is unbelievably stubborn, which hasn’t surprised me, but he doesn’t argue very well. Simon just huffs and glares until he gets his way or gets over it. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the slightest bit endearing.

“Quit your pouting, love, it’ll be quick and easy and should buy us a few more days at least.” I say, taking his hand and pulling him closer to me.

He looks up at me, “Oh, alright. As long as I get a little more time to kiss you later.”

“Of course.” I give him a light kiss for good measure. “I’ll be back shortly.”

I leave Simon alone in my cabin and head into town. I see Bunce walk into a small pub and follow her. She glares when she sees me.

“You came alone,” I say, “good.”

“That was the agreement.” She hisses, “Now let us order our ale and negotiate the return of my first mate.”

“Let’s,” I answer, although I have no plan to do what she just suggested.

“First, I have questions for you.” She says when our pints are placed in front of us by the grisly looking barkeep.

“I thought this was a negotiation, not an interrogation.” I say snarkily.

“I think I deserve one or two questions, Pitch.”

“Fine, ask away.” The sarcasm is literally dripping from every word that comes out of my mouth, but she seems to ignore it.

“Have you hurt him?” She asks, sounding legitimately worried.

“I thought I told you, Bunce. He’s far too pretty to just waste like that. Plus, I’m a man of my word, you should know that I’m not going to hurt him.” I look down at my fingernails nonchalantly.

“ _A man of his word_ is not at all how I would describe you.”

“Interesting, I know plenty of people think differently, but perhaps our relationship is slightly less simplistic.”

“To say the least,” she rolls her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“You sure you want that to be your second question? I thought we agreed on two.” I say, just to get under her skin.

Bunce huffs and I wonder if she picked it up from Simon. “You’re being particularly difficult today.”

I shrug, taking a sip of the ale, though it’s disgusting. “This is a situation that calls for difficulty.”

“Just give me my first mate back, Pitch.”

“You know it will cost you.”

“How much do you want?” She asks firmly, like she’s prepared to pay anything for him. I’m sure she is.

“Hm, how much are you willing to pay for him?” I ask, knowing that she’d agree to any price I set.

 _Anything,_ she wants to say. I can see it on her face. Instead, she says, “Don’t play with me, Pitch.”

A corner of my mouth turns up. “Isn’t that all we’re doing? See, Bunce, if I wanted your money, I never would have left Aberdeen. I would have made things easy so you’d have your mate and I’d have my money in a day’s time.” I set my mug down so hard that she jumps. “I am playing with you, Bunce. And I am winning.”

Bunce stares at me for a moment; in shock, perhaps, because she doesn’t say anything. Or, I don’t give her the chance to.

“You may not have time for games, Bunce, but I do. And I have the upper hand. So you better be ready to play as well.” I say, standing. If Bunce can’t reply, I’m free to leave and this will be easier than anticipated.

Bunce finds her voice now. “You’re a cruel man, Pitch.” She says, less accusatory, more matter-of-factly.

I shrug, “This is a cruel world, Bunce.” She grits her teeth at my words, but doesn’t speak. “I should be going now. I have a hostage to attend to.”

I leave her speechless.

I head directly back to my ship, even though I know Bunce won’t attempt anything. She, unlike me, is actually a person of honor and her word. Not like I would ever admit that to her face.

Before I can make it back to _The Natasha_ , I hear someone call my name.

“Oi! Pitch!” I turn around and groan inwardly at the sight. “It’s my darling nephew, everyone! Say hello to this bastard that I am slightly ashamed to be related to.”

“Fiona, charming as always,” I say.

“Aren’t I?” She asks the two people beside her, who I assume are members of her crew, they don’t look impressed. “Anyways, this is my crew, Ebb and Nico.” She gestures to the pair behind her.

“Lovely to meet you.” I greet them, but keep glaring at my aunt.

“So I hear that you have a hostage situation…” she laughs a little, “You’ve been getting into all sorts of trouble since we parted, Basilton.”

“Who told you that?”

“That darling redhead, didn’t you two have a thing once?” She taps her chin like she’s trying to remember, although I know she’s just trying to pick on me.

“His name is Niall, and no, we never had a _thing_.”

“Oh, my mistake. So when am I going to get to meet this mystery hostage boy?”

Damn Fiona for knowing everything. I guess we’re just too similar.

“Why not right now?” My voice is laced with sarcasm, but she doesn’t get it.

“Yes!” She cries brightly, “Ebb and Nico, you two go find a pub or something while I spend some quality time with my darling nephew.”

The two exchange a glance, and the one that I assume is Nico says: “See ya, Fi.”

The other one, Ebb, mouths ‘good luck’ to me before they leave us.

“So, Fiona, why are you here exactly?” I ask her when the silence gets too long.

“Well it’s just the three of us, plus two goats, on a boat.” She explains, glossing over the whole part about the goats, which is rather shocking information to gloss over. “We sail around Scotland mostly, and have plenty of friends in small coastal towns. Sometimes we even take people out on boat rides for money. I told Nico an extra income would come in handy, but he insists that prostitution is a step down from crime.”

“So basically you’ve become mundane, and you have goats. On a boat.” I can’t get over the goats.

“They’re Ebb’s goats, and they’re quite lovely.” She explains, “We even have a little patch of grass for them. And no, we’re not mundane, we just gave up on a life of criminal activity. There is a difference.”

“No, there really isn’t.”

She doesn’t have time for a snarky response because we’ve already reached the door to my cabin (my crew is accustomed to Fiona and her interloping).

“Snow?” I knock on the door.

“Yeah?” He opens the door and peeks out a little bit.

“You have a visitor,” I say, pointing at Fiona. “This is my aunt, Fiona.”

He opens the door fully to let us in before flashing her one of his sweet smiles, “Hello, I’m Simon Snow, Baz’s...hostage.”

“Do you mean Basil’s bedmate?” She asks him because she has never known tact.

He turns almost as red as when I called him _love_ last night, and she grins. She seems to get some weird sadistic pleasure out of making people uncomfortable. It’s not like I don’t as well, but I hate that we’re the same person sometimes.

“Gods, Basil, he’s adorable.” She takes Simon’s jaw, turning his face left and right. “Where’d you get a boy toy like this? I might just have to get one of my own.”

Simon just sputters incoherently.

“I prefer the term _lover_.” I look directly at Simon, and he looks down at the ground, which forces Fiona to drop her hand.

“So tell me,” she begins, “is he any good in bed?”

“Why do you need to know that? It’s not like I’m allowing you anywhere near him because, I not-so-regretfully inform you, he is _mine_.” I fix her with my deadliest glare. Although I love teasing Simon, Fiona needs to mind her own fucking business.

Plus, the look Simon is giving me over her shoulder is totally worth pissing off my aunt.

“Retract your fangs, Basil. I won’t touch your boy.” Fiona raises her hands in surrender.

Simon takes a step back. “Well, it was . . . _interesting_ to meet you, Fiona.”

Fiona laughs, “He’s got manners, too. You struck gold with this one, Basil.”

“Get off my ship, Fiona,” I sigh.

“The ship you named after _my_ sister?” Fiona remarks, apparently still bitter.

“She was my _mother_ , Fiona, I had every right to.” I retort, crossing my arms. “You’re just upset you didn’t think of it yourself. Now would you get off my ship? Or do I have to throw you off?”

Fiona grins, “Walk me out, yeah?”

“Fine.” I practically hiss at her, “I’ll be back in a minute, Simon.”

Fiona loops her arm through mine and I roll my eyes, but I let her. “So, where _did_ you find this one, boyo?”

I sigh, “If you _must_ know, we met in Donegal.”

“And now he’s your hostage? There’s some missing pieces to this story, Basil.”

“And maybe one day I’ll tell it to you.”

Fiona snorts, “Why are you being so dodgy, Basil? It’s not like your entire crew doesn’t already know.”

I freeze. We’re steps from the gangplank and my sudden stop nearly pitches Fiona into the water. “What?”

“Aye, your mate told me he’s almost positive you two are shagging.” She says, “And I don’t think he’s wrong.”

“Because I _told_ you, Fiona.”

“It’s obvious either way.” She gives me a look, as if to say that I’m an oblivious idiot. “It’s not like you two hide it very well. Since the second we stepped into that room, you two couldn’t keep your eyes off each other.”

I clench my fists so tightly that my fingernails indent crescent moons into my palms. “You’re kidding.”

“Not one bit, dear nephew.” She pauses, before giving me another look, this one incredulous. “Did you really think that you were being secretive?”

“I can’t afford to be anything else.”

She sighs, “Basil, your crew is loyal to you. Do you really think they care that you prefer shagging blokes?”

“But Simon is Bunce’s. His crew are our rivals!”

“Not if you don’t act like it. On that ship, your word is law,” she grins a little, “for better or for worse. If you tell them to respect this boy of yours, then they will. I promise you.”

“They won’t hate me? Or him?” _I hate_ how much I sound like a child in need of comforting. I’m too old to still need Fiona’s advice.

She seems to read my mind, “Trust me, Baz. You may not think that you still need my advice, but I am still your aunt, and that I practically raised you. Remember that I’m always here for you. I have always been here for you. And fortunately enough for you, I have no plan on dying or giving you a break from my ingenious advice anytime soon.”

The hug I give her surprises me more than her.

“Woah, boyo.” She says, pushing me off, “Don’t start getting all sappy on me now.”

“You just gave me a whole speech about how you’re here for me,” I retort.

“Did I?” She asks, feigning ignorance. “Doesn’t sound like me. Just remember that I may have gone mundane but I’ll always know how to run a ship better than you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Goodbye, dear nephew!” She calls as she makes her way down the gangplank.

I watch her until she disappears into town.

 

**penelope**

I let him walk away.

I can’t believe I bloody let him walk away.

“You’re going to wear a hole into the floor and send us all to Davy Jones’ Locker.” Philippa tells me matter-of-factly.

“Don’t test me, Philippa.” I answer, “I am not in the mood for that.”

She purses her lips and nods, “Got it.”

“Pitch has him and I just let him _leave_!”

“Why don’t you just take Simon back yourself? Attack the ship? We’re in the same harbour,” Gareth suggests.

“No, not happening,” I shake my head.

“Why not?” Rhys asks, frowning.

“It’s too dangerous.” I say, stopping my pacing. My crew faces me, all of them sitting in a semi circle on the deck.

“Isn’t Simon worth it?” Rhys raises an eyebrow, leaning back on the mast.

“He would be if this were any other captain. But Basilton is too dangerous. He’ll slaughter us all and we’d all die just to leave Simon in his possession.” I feel the need to defend myself. I love Simon like a brother, but I know trying to retrieve him now is a suicide mission.

“But Captain—” Gareth tries to argue.

“Don’t you think I want him back?” I snap, crossing my arms. “I need Simon here. I was willing to pay anything for his return.”

“Captain’s right,” Philippa defends me. “Basilton is dangerous. We can’t risk it, even for Simon.”

“Exactly, we should do everything in our power, but challenging _The Natasha_ is not in our power.”

“What does that say about us?” asks Rhys, indignant. “We have to be the better people here. Basilton and his crew are pure evil; it’s our job to fight against them. Especially if they’ve captured our friend!”

“Damnit, Rhys, think with your head!” Gareth retorts, “Penelope is right. It’s our job to stay alive. For Simon.”

“But what if we don’t get Simon back?” pipes up Philippa, voicing all of our fears.

“We’re going to get him back.” I say with as much conviction as I can muster, but I know my crew senses the fear in my voice.

Rhys opens his mouth to speak but Gareth clamps his hand over his mouth.

“We’re going to get him back,” he says.

“But we don’t have a plan?” Philippa interjects, frowning.

“No,” I sigh, “at least not yet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've returned!! tomorrow is trans day of visibility, so I (alix/ez) am gonna be hella busy, so we decided to post now instead of making you wait an extra two days. 
> 
> <3


	9. chapter eight

**chapter 8**

**_The Natasha & Inverbervie, Scotland  - 1718_ **

**simon**

“Get off your arse, Snow, you’re going to help me out.”

I sit up, seeing Baz standing in the doorway, grinning. I’d been waiting for him to get back from negotiating. “You sound like Penny.” I say simply.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m offended, Snow.”

“Oh don’t be, Penny’s wonderful.”

He sighs, “Get off your arse, you gorgeous idiot.”

“What for?” I ask, but get up anyway. How can I say no to him when he’s being like this? It’s both annoying and endearing (which seems to often be the case with Baz). 

Baz shrugs, “I’m sure you could be useful above deck.”

“What about your crew?”

Baz grins. “Just come on, love. If they have problems, I’ll happily toss them overboard.” 

This makes me smile so I follow him above deck. Baz tries to take my hand when we get up there but I don’t let him. Baz does it again, lacing our fingers and squeezing my hand when he has it. “What are you doing?” I ask quietly as he pulls me along.

“Just trust me, would you?” He replies.

His crew is at work, preparing the ship for sailing. Niall and a man who looks like Baz but paler are lifting the anchor. I see a girl sweeping the deck, another girl painting the railings.

“Trixie!” Baz calls, pulling me towards her.

The girl, Trixie, turns. She has light skin, but it’s clearly been tanned from sailing, and braided blonde hair. She eyes Baz and I’s connected hands, her mouth quirking, but says nothing. “Aye, Captain?”

“I don’t remember properly introducing you to Simon here.” He says, gesturing to me. 

She gives me a small smile, offering me her hand, which I shake. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Simon. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you.” Baz squeezes my hand. 

“He’s lovely, Captain.” Trixie says, smirking.

“Isn’t he? Now, go be useful somewhere else. Simon and I will take this.” Baz orders, waving Trixie away with his free hand.

“Aye, Captain,” Trixie nods, marching off to join the girl sweeping the deck.

My mouth drops open, “Did you just?” I’m confused, wondering where Baz’s change of heart came from. “And she was fine with it?! With us?”

He grins, “You’d be surprised, Snow.” He picks up Trixie’s abandoned paintbrush and hands it to me before grabbing one for himself. “Help me out.”

We paint in silence for a while, listening to the water and the distant sounds of the people at the harbour.

“Baz?” I ask after a time. Baz hums in reply, looking over at me. “Why’d you name your ship the Natasha?”

Baz raises an eyebrow but doesn’t seem bothered that I asked. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug, “Your aunt mentioned it earlier. I was curious.”

Baz pauses, seeming to consider his answer. “My mother was the greatest captain ever known. She made a lot of enemies. She died when I was young, killed when our ship was attacked. My father gave up piracy and her crew disbanded, so I joined my aunt. My mother was my inspiration so I knew that I had to name my ship after her.”

I’m speechless for a moment. This is a side of Baz I haven’t seen yet: tender and sentimental. “I’m sorry about your mother.” I finally muster.

Baz shakes his head. “I’m well past grieving, Simon.” He continues painting, nudging me. I hadn’t realized that I stopped. “Well, now you tell me something.”

“What?”

“You think I’d give you such a heartfelt confession and then let you off easy? You should know me better than that, Snow.”

“I guess there’s a lot about you I have to learn.” I say without thinking.

Baz gives me a look, one that I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad. But then he smiles, a barely there smile that I like far more than any of his others.

I lean over to kiss him. It surprises him but he doesn’t stop me.

“Get back to work, you two!”

I nearly jump out of my skin, looking up to find Niall in the crow’s nest.

“Stay out of your captain’s business or I’ll have you keelhauled!” Baz shouts back.

“Baz!” I scold.

“He knows I don’t mean it. Not yet, anyhow,” Baz shrugs.

I shake my head. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Baz swipes the paint brush across my face. “Oh, I know that very well, love. Don’t you worry.” He pecks me on the cheek. “Let’s get back to work.”

I stammer, indignant, but he just gives me one of his trademark smirks.

“No more slacking off, Snow.”

“Salisbury,” I blurt.

Baz raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“My surname is Salisbury. Snow is my middle name.”

“Oh,” is all Baz says.

I shrug lightly. “You wanted me to tell you something. There’s that.” I stare at my brush now, painting the railing with slow strokes.

“Why do you go by Snow then?”

“Penny’s idea,” I reply. “I’m not entirely sure why.”

“You’re close with Bunce, aren’t you?” Baz asks.

“Yeah,” I nod, “She’s my closest friend.”

 

**penelope**

After what Rhys said, I couldn’t stop thinking about Simon. So that brings me to where I am now: standing in the shadow of Basilton’s boat, and watching his crew intently for signs of Simon. 

I catch sight of him with Basilton. They seem to be painting the railing because that bastard loves to make other ships feel ugly. 

I watch carefully, tracking the man’s every move around Simon. They seem almost amicable. No, they’re certainly friendly with one another. Basil says something amusing and Simon’s face lights up with laughter. It makes bile rise up in my throat. 

The rest of Basilton’s crew joins in the mirth, and my stomach ties itself into knots. Simon looks so goddamn happy. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy in months. Months. Just days ago, when he was with me, he seemed so miserable. It was painful to watch, but seeing him here now is almost more awful. 

It’s not like I don’t want him to be happy, I do! He’s my best friend and I love him to pieces. Of course I want him to be happy, but I want him to be happy with me, not happy with my nemesis.

Why is he even so happy with Basilton? It doesn’t make sense.

Unless… The thought makes me feel sick, so I force myself to stop thinking. 

I take one last look at Simon’s radiant smile before slipping away. I don’t look back. 

 

**basilton**

The crew is warming up to Simon. I’m glad for it, because I don’t want to throw anyone overboard.

“Call off your boy, Basil.” Trixie sighs after losing to Simon the third time. We’re playing cards with the crew again (the no gambling rule still standing). It’s a relief that none of them are questioning Simon and I. They’ve figured it out and seem to be alright with it, or at least compliant.

“It’s not my fault you’re awful at this, Trixie.” I smirk, putting an arm around Simon.

Simon grins, “Does anyone else want to play?”

Keris rolls her eyes, “Think you can beat me, new boy? Because I’m the current champion here.”

“We’ll see about that,” Simon retorts like the dumbass he is. Keris is an incredible player, and Simon’s rookie skill is no match for hers. 

She grins like a maniac. “Yes, we will definitely see.”

Needless to say, Keris beats Simon miserably.

“How sure are you now, pretty boy?” Keris taunts.

“Fine, fine, I submit to the reigning champion.” Simon gives Keris a mock bow and I snort.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, flicking the back of his head. He turns to frown at me and I kiss the frown off his face.

Trixie and Keris exchange glances. Niall rolls his eyes. Dev chokes.

“Wait, what?” He stammers, looking back and forth between Simon and I. Simon blushes, sitting up straight.

I glare at him. “Have something to say, Grimm?”

“I thought he was the hostage!”

“He is,” I reply simply, putting my arm around Simon and pulling him close to my chest. Dev’s eyes widen. 

“Are you just now catching onto this?” Trixie asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“But he– we– what?” Dev stammers again and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t question your captain, Grimm.”

“You just kissed him!” He crows, still incredulous. 

“You’re really just now catching onto this…” Trixie shakes her head in mock shame, “I’m disappointed in you, Devlin.” 

“Even I noticed,” Keris chimes in. “You caught the bloody bloke! Didn’t you notice Basilton’s constant heart eyes?”

Dev looks slightly ashamed, and I am slightly ashamed to be related to him in this moment. “You’ve been together the whole time?” He asks Simon and I. 

“Pretty much,” Simon gives him a lopsided grin, “Since the beginning.”

“So that interrogation was more like a shagging session?” Niall gives me a pointed look. 

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” I answer, letting my fingers trail over Simon’s thigh. 

Simon just blushes and shakes his head, muttering something about me being incorrigible again.

“So you will confirm then.”

Simon shakes his head more, pressing his face into my shoulder. He whispers: “Quit lying to them.”

“What do you want me to say, love?” I whisper back, “Shall I start from the beginning?”

I feel him shake his head in the crook of my neck, but before I can say anything else to him, Niall is talking again. 

“I have just the thing that this party needs!” He exclaims, getting to his feet.

“You call this a party?” Keris jokes. 

He glares at her, “You’ll thank me, Keris.”

“Oh, I’d better.”

Niall returns a minute later, carrying three bottles of presumably stolen whiskey. Keris nods appreciatively. 

“I definitely appreciate that.” 

“Where in hell did you get those?” asks Trixie. 

“I stole them, of course.” He confirms my suspicions, “I took that gigantic coat of Dev’s in Aberdeen and went to this little bar. Then I told the bartender that there was a fight in the alley outside, so he was distracted long enough for me to swipe them from their best liquor shelf.”

I tsk in mock disappointment. “And that’s all you got? Amateur.”

“None for you, then.” Niall says, opening one of the bottles and taking a swig straight from it. 

“Fine, arsehole, I take it back.”

“Good,” he laughs, “because we are playing a drinking game.”

“Is this one of those drinking games where you make it up on the spot and expect us to think that it’s a real game?” Trixie asks. 

“When have I ever done that, Trixie?” Niall sounds legitimately hurt.

Keris looks over at Simon, to explain, “He does this all the time. It’s the most fun just to go along with it and see how drunk you can get him.”

I wink at Simon, and he gives me an adorable smile in return. I have the urge to kiss it off, but I don’t want to sway Niall as he creates his game. That’s always a dangerous line to walk with him, especially when he’s on the verge of tipsy. 

“‘Right, Niall, what do you have for us?” Dev questions. 

“Ummm…” He trails off. 

“Just give us the bloody whiskey!” Simon surprises me as he snatches a bottle from next to Niall. 

Niall gasps (he’s a dramatic drunk, and a lightweight at that). “You can’t do that! I haven’t explained the game yet.”

Simon uncorks the bottle and brings it to his lips, challenging Niall to get a move on. 

“Fine!” Niall says, “We go around in a circle, and everyone has to say something they’ve done.”

“Where does the alcohol come in?” Keris asks him, apparently that’s all she cares about. 

“If you’ve done whatever the person said, then you have to drink.” 

“Sounds idiotic,” I say.

Trixie nods, “It does, let’s do it.”

We situate ourselves in a circle, and Niall passes around the bottles of whiskey. One for him and Dev, one for Keris and Trixie, and one for Simon and I. Simon snuggles against me, taking occasional sips from the bottle in his hands. I’m pretty sure that’s against Niall’s imaginary rules, but I don’t stop him, just put my arms around him. 

“I’ll go first then.” I offer.

“No, I wanna go first!” Protests Niall, “It’s my game!”

“Okay, go for it.” Again, he’s the dramatic drunk. 

“I have been to London!” He says brightly, and everyone in the circle drinks. 

“That was boring, even for me,” says Dev, “we’re making this more interesting.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, “I have kissed a girl.”

Niall, Keris, and Trixie drink, but neither Simon nor I touch the bottle. 

“Oooh, you two are committed to men.” Trixie says, giggling. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” I challenge her, gently pressing my lips to Simon’s cheek. He grins at me. 

“I don’t know if I’m _committed_ to men or women.” He says, “I just like this bastard.” He kisses me briefly on the mouth. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with that either, but you’re not allowed any of the girls on this ship.” She intertwines her fingers with Keris’ in explanation.

He grins, “You have nothing to worry about, Trixie. Baz here is my only concern.”

“You called him  _ Baz _ !” Dev looks flabbergasted, “And he  _ let  _ you!”

Simon looks up at me in surprise, “Your crew doesn’t call you Baz?”

I shake my head, “You’re special, love.”

“And you call him  _ love _ !” Niall points an accusatory finger at me.

“Disgusting, aren’t they?” Trixie says fondly, taking a swig from her bottle. 

“Oh, he’s absolutely filthy,” Simon murmurs for my ears only. I feel myself flush, but it’s probably just the fault of the alcohol. 

“Like you aren’t?” I whisper back. 

“You love it.” He replies under his breath, “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I never tried to.” I tell him, although I was about to do just that.

“Guys, are you even paying attention?” Trixie asks.

“They’re in their own little world.” Keris answers for us. 

“Whose turn is it?” Simon asks. 

“Mine.” She answers, “And I know you don’t know what I said, so I’ll say it again: I have almost passed out in an alleyway. Not like actually passed out, but almost.”

I don’t drink, but Simon does. The way he sips is almost sheepish, he seems slightly ashamed about it. I want to know the story behind that one. I look over at him, raising an eyebrow, but Simon avoids my eyes.

I’ll ask him later.

“Oooh! It’s my turn!” Trixie sprawls herself dramatically across Keris’ lap, and the other girl doesn’t even bat an eye. It’s Simon’s turn to raise an eyebrow at me as he makes himself comfortable in  _ my  _ lap.

I roll my eyes at him but kiss him anyway.

“I have never kissed a boy.” Trixie admits. 

“Woah, really?” Niall asks. 

“It’s true,” Trixie answers, “I haven’t.”

Dev is the only one in the circle to drink. Niall kisses his cheek in retaliation, and the look on Dev’s face is absolutely priceless. 

“W-Why’d you do that?” He stutters.

“Maybe I wanted to.” Niall gives him a wicked smile that I swear to the Gods he learned from me. I must be a wonderful teacher, seeing as how much I’ve rubbed off on him in our years together. Dev just splutters some more. 

Somehow, all of us get sufficiently wasted. I’ve been quietly ignoring the fact that Trixie has been surreptitiously nibbling on Keris’ neck for about an hour. Finally, it’s Simon’s turn again, and he hesitates before speaking. 

“I have shagged your Captain!” He slurs, his voice laced with an excess of alcohol. 

Niall dissolves into laugher, collapsing onto the deck, completely overcome with mirth. The others are much better about hiding their amusement. 

“Oh, okay.” I say, “If that’s how it is, then we’ll be off to bed.”

“But Bazzzzzz!” Cries Simon, “I wanna keep playing!”

“You’re wasted,” I deadpan.

“I’ve hardly had anything to drink!” He crosses his arms and pouts. 

Keris can’t hold herself together anymore, “But Bazzzz!” She mocks, “He wants to play with usssss!” 

“Call me that again and you’re overboard.” I tell her, putting an arm around Simon’s shoulders. “And you, Snow, need to sleep. You’re gonna have one helluva hangover in the morning.”

“You always ruin our fun, Basil.” Whines Niall, “But alright, go have your shagging session and leave us to our game.”

“Gods, Niall, can you not mention sex for a few minutes?” 

“Nope.” He says with a grin, “Not in my realm of capabilities.”

“Right then.” I lift Simon to his feet, but instead of taking it upon himself to walk, he throws himself into my arms. I give my crew the worst glare I can muster as I carry Simon towards my cabin, bridal style. 

“Hm, you’re warm, Bazzy.” Simon says into the crook of my neck. I drop him rather unceremoniously onto my bed.

“ _ What  _ did you just call me?” I can’t be angry with him in this state, so my words lose all malice that they were supposed to have. 

“Mmmmm…” Simon says for no particular reason, “Come here and hold me.”

I can’t refuse him, so I quickly change into something more comfortable and lay down next to him, covering us with my blankets. 

I put my arm around him and gently kiss the nape of his neck before closing my eyes. Sleep doesn’t come like I want it to because Simon has other plans. As soon as I’m relatively comfortable, he starts grinding against me. 

“Simon? What are you doing?” 

He turns to face me, forcing his fingers under my shirt. “Isn’t it obvious?” He almost moans, “I want to, Baz.”

“Simon, you’re drunk,” I gasp out, but somehow his hands are everywhere and I’m already losing my mind.

“So drunk,” he giggles, “but I wanna. Don’t you?”

“Of course I  _ want _ to, but we can’t. Not when you’re loaded to the gunnels like this.” 

He attaches his mouth to my neck, and I know why he loves when I do this to him so much. Within seconds, I’ve forgotten the words that were on the tip of my tongue barely moments ago. 

“Baz…” Simon moans my name, fitting his body flush against mine, his lips still on my neck. 

“Gods, Simon!” I try to push him away, he’s too drunk for this; I’m too drunk for this, but that just gives him renewed vigor. 

“Don’t be rude, Baz.” He tells me like this whole situation is really that simple. 

I’m finally able to push him off. “Simon,” I say.

“What?” He pouts a little bit. 

“We can’t. Not right now. We’re both too drunk, and I don’t want to do this again on a night we won’t even remember. It’s not like I don’t want to; it’s all I want. But it’s not okay to do something like this in our current state. It’s not fair to either of us. Do you understand? I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

He nods, although disappointment is scrawled all over his gorgeous face. “I know, Baz. I understand.”

“Good.” I give him a quick kiss. “Now turn back around so I can hold you.”

He giggles, “Alright, darling, whatever you say.”

Drunk Simon will be the death of me. 

I put my arms around him again, and he sighs a little bit. He has no right to be as adorable as he is. I think I might be in love with this courageous fucking nightmare of a boy. And I think that I’m okay with that. 

I love him, I think. Maybe just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey pals i literally forgot to post a chapter this week... school has been kicking my ass recently and we've been hard at work on some pretty angsty shit (sorry in advance). anyways, hopefully we'll gift you with two chapters this weekend to make up for this week's lack of content. 
> 
> love you beans!!   
> -ez


	10. chapter nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya lovely people! i'm giving this chapter a whole lot of trigger warnings, so please read all of this. 
> 
> TW: graphic depictions of violence  
> TW: blood  
> TW: abuse
> 
> all of these are only used in a flashback, but if you want to avoid reading any of that please skip over the italicized sections. i don't want to spoil anything here, so if you want a brief summary please don't hesitate to message me on Tumblr @alixanderthequeer. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!

**chapter 9**

**_At Sea - 1718_ **

**penelope**

Basilton left us in his wake again.

When we woke up the next morning, his ship was gone, not a trace of it. We’ve started sailing, continuing our course until we see something from Basilton again. I’m hoping he’s somewhere on this route. A few times I think I’ve seen his ship, but storms have plagued us since we left Inverbervie.

If the gods are trying to tell me something, I’m not listening.

 

**basilton**

It’s been a little more than a week since we left Inverbervie and since our night of drinking on deck. If Simon remembers what happened that night, he doesn’t mention it.

I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Part of me wants him to, address it that is. I want him to say that he remembers every blissful second, even when I pushed him away (for the second time). Maybe that he forgives me for it. And then he’d apologize and I’d kiss him because he’d be there, looking so flustered and so very kissable. 

Our relationship hasn’t changed since that night. We snog at every chance we get, sometimes just to piss off my crew. Dev is still bewildered by it, Niall gets annoyed, Trixie encourages it, and Keris turns a blind eye to it (or tries to).

“Baz?” Simon’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, squeezing my hand. “It’s your turn.”

Trixie had procured some dice at our last stop and the crew has been playing as we sail.

I nod, rolling the dice and passing it on.

Simon leans close to me while everyone else is occupied with Keris beating Dev. “Are you alright?” He whispers. “You’ve been acting strange.”

I nod again. “I’m alright, love.” I turn to kiss him before he can ask anymore questions.

“Aye, cut back on the snogging, would you?” Niall complains, throwing a die at Simon.

I give Niall my middle finger but pull away anyway. I’m about to scold him for assaulting his captain’s lover when Trixie calls from the crow’s nest.

“Unknown ship!”

I groan, apparently the gods hate me. 

 

**simon**

“Snow, go to my cabin.” Baz tells me, standing.

“What? Why?” I ask, standing as well. The entire crew is in motion, moving around and preparing.

“If this goes badly I don’t want you seeing it.” He answers, rather bluntly. “Besides, I plan to keep my word to Bunce.”

“Your word to Penny?” I question. 

“That you’ll remain unharmed.” He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I decide not to question him further; he sounds far too serious for me to risk it, but I don’t plan on completely disappearing.

I position myself next to the small window in Baz’s cabin, but it doesn’t give me a particularly good view. 

The unknown ship soon is within shouting distance. I can’t see their captain, but Baz’s fists are clenched by his sides, a sure sign that he’s stressed and annoyed. 

I look away for a second, and when I look back he’s disappeared from my line of sight. I see Keris come into view for a split second, but then she too disappears. I don’t want to make Baz angry so I decide to stay put. 

Soon enough, I start pacing back and forth around Baz’s room. From the desk to the bed, from the bed to the window, then back to the desk, and back to the bed from there. To the door from the window, from the desk to the door. I feel like my feet have touched every floorboard when I hear shouts coming from the deck. 

I don’t even bother to check the window; I bolt outside without a second thought. 

What I see isn’t what I expected. 

The remnants of a once-formidable ship is burning. 

Flames leap up from the wood, which is rapidly sinking into the waves. The screams are still happening, and I see the source. A sailor is gripping a wooden beam, suspended between water and the encroaching fire. 

His hand slips, but not before the fire reaches him; his last scream dies as the ruined ship, along with his charred corpse, sink beneath the waves. 

I’m frozen, not sure how long I’ve been standing there. 

Then Baz notices me, and the look in his eyes chills me to the bone. He looks ruthless, like he’s prepared to do anything. Even burning his enemies alive. 

But then the look on his face changes; he looks scared, and younger than he did mere moments previously. He seems like he’s about to start towards me when Niall grabs his arm, pulling him back to help them load things—things taken from the ship it seems—into the hold of the ship. His face hardens again and he follows them, purposely. 

I’m left standing, alone. Trixie sends me a look of pity, but Baz doesn’t even acknowledge me. 

So, I return to the Captain’s quarters because there’s nowhere else for me to go, and because I don’t want to chase after Baz. And I can’t just stand here and watch the remains of that ship burn, see bodies slowly float to the surface. It shouldn’t surprise me; Penny told me Baz was cruel before any of this started. Even  _ Baz  _ himself said he was cruel. But the Baz I see now and the Baz I fell for—am falling for—are two different people entirely. Penny just doesn’t do things like that. I guess she’s merciful for a pirate, but she’s the only one I’ve ever really gotten to know.

I guess that I never understood the lengths to which one person can go with cruelty, although I should know that better than almost anyone else. People I love have a habit of hurting me. I shouldn’t think that about Baz. He’s been nothing but good to me (other than pushing me down the stairs). But I know that people aren’t always as kind as they seem at the first glance.

I lay down on Baz’s bed, letting the smell of his posh cologne that I don’t understand why he even wears wash over me. Well, if being a posh bastard is enough of a reason, then I understand. 

I don’t know how long I lay there. Time starts running differently for me. Perhaps it’s been minutes, perhaps it’s been hours. I’m not sure, and I don’t really care that much.

The door opens, and I jump, more than I meant to. I must have gotten lost in my head.

“Simon,” Baz says, sounding breathless.

“Hello,” I say, staring at his sheets rather than him.

He walks over and sits next to me. “I told you to stay in here.”

“You can’t order me around.” I snap, glaring at him.

“I was trying to prevent this,” Baz sighs.

I laugh mirthlessly, “Really? What are you preventing? Me getting hurt? Me seeing you do that?”

“Both, really,” Baz says bluntly.

“I didn’t expect that from you.” I say quietly, avoiding his gaze again. I’m not sure how to feel about him right now: scared, angry, a combination of the two? Something else entirely? 

I knew that I didn’t fully know him. We’ve truly only just met, but I never expected what he said about himself to be true. I meet his eyes, and there’s no cruelty in them now, just an emotion I can’t place.

“I warned you, Snow. I told you what to expect.”

“You’ve been nothing but good to me, Baz. It’s hard to expect this after that.”

Baz sighs again, stands up. “Look, Simon, I know Bunce isn’t like that. I know she avoids conflict where she can. I know you weren’t born into this business and you’ve only seen the nicer side of it. We’re pirates, Simon. This is normal. It may be a little much for most crews, but it’s what we do. And I might enjoy it, just a little bit. But I do this for my crew. I do this because most crews don’t survive when they act like Bunce’s. Your captain just gets lucky.” I’m about to defend Penny, but he isn’t done talking yet. 

“You may not understand it, I don’t expect you to. You may not like it either, and I don’t need you to. I’m the captain and I’m doing what I have to for my crew in the ways I know how. So expect what you want, but this is how it is here. I like having you here, but you’re not going to stop me from taking care of my ship and my crew, no matter what I feel for you. Do you get that? You don’t have to understand anything else but that: this is my crew, my ship, and I’m protecting them by running things how I see fit. You don’t have to like it, Simon. It’s okay if you tolerate it, and I’m not stopping you from leaving at the next port.”

I take a moment to process this. In a way, I understand what he’s saying. Maybe it’s just captains who have to have two versions of themselves, the same way Penny does. The Penny who barks at our crew isn’t the same Penny that tucked me in and kissed my forehead when she found me loaded to the gunnells. I think I understand Baz, but on the other hand: I think he’s an idiot. 

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m leaving.” I tell him, rather frankly. 

He almost laughs a little bit; I can see the makings of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s true!” I protest, wanting to see that smile again, “I’m not leaving. I am a barnacle on the hull of this ship, and it’s going to take a helluva knife to get me off.”

Baz laughs this time. “Sometimes you just need to quit while you’re ahead, love.” He sits on the bed again, pulling me close to him by my waist.

I lean my forehead against his. “If it means anything, I still don’t think you’re nearly as wicked as you say you are.”

“You don’t?” He says, and I can feel his lips move against mine.

“No,” I kiss him, a whisper of a kiss, and pull away again. “I get it, Baz. I know that there are things you have to do to survive.” I say, though it isn't what I meant to. I meant to say something about Penny, knowing that captains have to change themselves to be the best captain they can be. But Baz is being honest, so I guess I am too.

Baz doesn’t say anything to that, which I suppose I am glad for. He just kisses me. He kisses me so firmly that it takes me by surprise. It’s not like other times he’s done this: there’s less heat and urgency, less ferocity. But Baz still kisses like it’s all he lives for. He kisses me like I’m something precious, kissing me slow but sound, like we have all the time in the world and  he wants to spend it all treasuring me.

When he lets his fingers slip under my tunic, I take the hint, taking it off and tossing it to the floor. His eyes widen in surprise, but I don’t let him stop. Before his lips meet mine again, I push his Captain’s coat off of his shoulders. It drops ceremoniously next to my discarded tunic. 

“A-are you sure, Simon?” He asks me quietly. 

I smile, appreciating his wariness based on the last few times’ respective debacles. “Never been more sure,” I answer. 

He doesn’t answer me, just pulls his shirt over his head. It adds to the growing pile on the floor. My breath catches. 

It’s not like I haven’t seen him shirtless before, but never like  _ this _ . The first time this happened the room was dimly lit, so much so that he didn’t even notice my scars, but now he’s sitting next to me in all his shirtless glory. 

I pull him onto my lap. 

He giggles, which is an odd sound coming from him, but I find that I rather like it. 

I press my lips to his, kissing him as fiercely as I can. 

I’ve changed the mood, but neither of us mind. And soon my senses are flooded with sensation: heat and friction and tension of every imaginable kind. It feels fucking incredible. I’m not a virgin; I’ve slept with Baz before for God’s sakes, but this feels like my first time all over again. 

Suddenly, Baz is pressing me into the bed, and everything fits together like a puzzle. 

“Fuck!” I gasp out and he laughs. 

“Enjoying yourself, love?” He asks, pulling me back up so our chests are touching. 

“That’s an understatement,” I tell him. 

His fingers trace patterns across my back, and brush up against one of my scars. I flinch, and immediately regret it because he pulls away from me. 

“Oh, Simon,” he says, “we don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“No,” I pull him back to me. “Don’t stop.”

“Simon,” he says again.

“I owe you an explanation, Baz.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Baz whispers, bringing a hand to my cheek.

I smile, turning and kissing his palm. Baz looks shocked and I laugh a little. “Fine then, I want to tell you.”

“You don’t have to.” Baz says, like he almost doesn’t want me to. But I need to. I’m still feeling honest and he should know.

“Hush before I change my mind.” I tell him, kissing him for good measure. Baz is still on top of me, but shifts us so we lay side by side, holding onto each other. “I lied, when we first met, Baz.”

“About what?” He asks, frowning.

“Where I’m from,” I answer. “I’m not from London. That’s where Penny found me. I’m from Wales.”

Baz knits his brows like it takes him a moment to process this. “How did you get from Wales to London?”

“I ran,” it comes out in a rush. I haven't told anyone these things, not since I met Penny. And I never told Penny specifics. She knows something happened in Wales with my family, why I left, and how it messed me up. But that’s all. I’m going to tell Baz all of it, the same way he’s been telling me all I’ve asked. “I ran because of what . . . what happened.”

“What happened?” Baz asks, quietly.

“The scars are. . . someone in my family. . .” I don’t know how to say it. I’ve never said it aloud.

Baz looks alarmed but he doesn’t push me. I can’t force the words out. It’s like they’re choking me. It feels like the night all over again, for just a second, being pressed on my stomach and. . . I’m not good with words, but these are especially hard. Baz rubs my back and I flinch again, but I press closer to him. “Simon, you know you don’t have to.”

“But I do, Baz. I have to tell you.”

He squeezes my hand gently, “Take your time, love.”

“My father,” I say, even though I hate how the words feel to say. I haven’t considered Davy my father for a long, long time. But it’s easier to explain the basics, the mechanics, rather than the technicalities of my estranged family. Baz frowns again, but I press on. “He was mad, to say the least. People said he was a genius or a visionary, once. But he was never the same after my mother died, they say. I wouldn’t know. My mother died when I was born.”

“I’m sorry, Simon.” Baz kisses my forehead.

I don’t know how to answer. I’ve never talked about this. I want to stop, but I’m in too deep. I can stop talking, but I won’t stop thinking about it. “He had all these ideas, these theories and experiments,” I explain. “He was still smart, but he. . . he wasn’t right in the head, Baz. I don’t really know what caused it or why he was like that. I still don’t know why he did what he did.”

Baz hesitates before he asks, “What did he do?”

_ You don’t understand it, Simon. You can’t understand it. But you won’t need to. Just let me do my work, make it easy and all will be well. _

“I don’t know what he meant to do. He wouldn’t tell me. Maybe he didn’t even know.” I say because I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know how to go back and remember and relive all that happened.

Baz swipes his thumb across my cheek and I realize I’ve started crying. I hate it. I feel weak and helpless again. I feel hands around my throat and on my back and being forced down. I feel myself being bound and wondering  _ why is he doing this? _

I don’t talk for a moment, pressing my face into Baz’s shoulder and waiting for it all to blow over. But it never does. Baz is saying something but I don’t know what. He’s kissing my forehead again and running his fingers through my hair and I still have no idea what he’s saying. I can’t hear Baz’s voice or even my own thoughts. All I can hear is Davy’s voice in my ear.

_ “Simon, where have you been?” _

_ I froze. Davy was never awake at this hour, unless he was in his “laboratory” or whatever he called that basement. I did my best to avoid it—and him. _

_ “Working,” I replied. It was true. I’d taken up work as a bartender at the pub. It paid more than most other jobs I could find. Probably because nobody wanted to deal with rowdy, drunk Welsh men. Luckily, I had plenty of experience with the like, and didn’t really mind it. _

_ “I need you here, Simon,” Davy said. _

_ What did that mean? We hadn’t spoken this much in weeks. “Well, we also need food on the table.” _

_ Davy stepped toward me and I tensed. I didn’t know what he wanted, why he was interested in me again after months of him ignoring me, weeks at a time of not seeing him. It wasn’t something I enjoyed, but I enjoyed this far less. “Not at the moment,” he shrugged. _

_ “Do you need something, sir?” I asked, growing nervous. I wanted to go to bed. I wanted to go back to the pub. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. _

_ “Come with me, son.” Davy waved a hand for me to follow as he walked away. I didn’t want to, but I followed, because I also didn’t want to know what happened when I didn’t. _

_ He led me down to the basement, which only made me more uneasy. He never brought me down there. I wasn’t  _ allowed  _ to be down there. I should have known, right then, that something wasn’t right. The large room was set up, primed for an experiment. There was a large open space on the floor, with a lot of rope. _

_ “Sir—“ I started to say, but he grabbed me. He tried to drag me in, and I tried to fight. But I was slight, weak and hungry. He forced me onto the ground, onto my back. I couldn’t fight. I was pinned. I was scared. I tried to shout, to scream, or at least ask my father what he was doing to me. And then he choked me. I could feel his grip for weeks, in my dreams and every time I tried to speak. _

_ Then I was on my stomach. It all happened so fast: my hands were bound behind me, my shirt off, a blade pressed against my skin. I didn’t speak, I was afraid to, even though his hands were no longer around my neck. He tied my hands behind my back. _

_ “Good, no more fighting,” Davy said. I said nothing. I could hardly think with a knife grazing my skin. All I could think was:  _ what is he doing with that?  _ “You don’t understand it, Simon. You can’t understand it. But you won’t need to. Just let me do my work, make it easy and all will be well.” _

_ He said it like I had a choice. I had my face pressed against the stone floor, Davy on top of me. He took my silence as assent. _

_ “Now, this may hurt quite a bit. It’s needed, though, all of this is necessary.” _

_ Then all of a sudden, a knife was digging into my skin, right below my shoulder blade. I found myself frozen, with pain, shock, fear; I couldn’t even scream, my voice had already died in my throat.  _

_ He dragged the blade down my back, and it felt like hours before he finally lifted it from my skin. The wound stung, and I could feel blood dripping down my sides, getting caught in the ropes and making my skin feel sticky. It was a relief when he stopped. It still hurt, but it wasn’t the actual knife in my skin. _

_ And then he did it again, dragging the knife across my other shoulder blade and down, a cut to match the other. _

_ My voice came back in gasps, whimpers, my screams muffled by his hand over my mouth again. The shock and the fear of it all had passed. Only the pain was left.  _

_ And it was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced.  _

_ Excruciating. The only word to describe it.  _

_ He cut again at the small of my back before he left me like that, bleeding on the floor; I was tied up, shirtless, and bloody. I thought I was going to die. I let myself believe it. I felt too weak, too drained and empty to do anything but lay here and wait. What was I waiting for? Was Davy going to finish me off? Or let me bleed out? I didn’t know. My throat hurt from screaming, I was freezing and in more pain than I’d known possible. _

_ But Davy was going to win if I stayed there. I’d spent years fighting him, trying to keep us from going broke and ending up on the streets when all he did was stay in that damned basement. I’d been fighting to survive all those bloody years and I wasn’t ready to stop. _

_ I forced myself to sit up. It hurt so damn badly, I bit my lip through to stop from crying out in pain. I looked around the laboratory, my blood was splattered on the floor, the only real color in the room.  _

_ And for some reason, it tethered me to the living world. The Gods weren’t ready for me yet, and I wasn’t ready for them.  _

_ I took a deep breath, and took inventory of the room. _

_ The knife he had used was lying on the floor next to me. Within reach of my fingers. It wouldn’t be easy, but I could use it. I was still sitting; standing would take a bit more energy and use of my hands. I grabbed the knife, turned it towards what I assumed was the rope around my wrists. It took some effort, sawing, and too many close calls to cut them. But I did it. Knives made me panic for weeks after that. But I did it. I knew I couldn’t stay there. He was going to kill me. _

_ I forced myself to my feet, grabbing my tunic from the floor. Surprisingly, there was hardly any blood on it. The cuts on my back were still bleeding, so I tore the fabric into strips to wrap around myself, but they only rubbed against my skin and made everything hurt more.  _

_ A waste of a tunic.  _

_ I found a cabinet filled with scraps of fabric, and I used them as bandages. There was another shirt there too, so I discarded the torn and bloody tunic in favor of the clean one.  _

_ And then I ran. And I didn’t look back.  _

“He was your father,” Baz says finally, “and he fucking did that to you. He was your fucking father!” Baz is on his feet now, pacing. 

“Baz,” I say, reaching for him. I’m still on his bed, trying to wipe tears away and pull him back to me.

“I’m going to bloody kill him! What he did to you is not okay, Simon!” It’s then that I notice Baz’s eyes are glassy too. He’s not crying, and he’s not sad (I don’t think), just angry. 

“I never said it was,” I reply. “But it’s what happened. I just wanted to tell you the truth.”

He nods, “I know, love.”

I don’t say anything, just hold my arms out for him. He comes back to put his arms around me. 

“Gods,” he says softly, “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

“What?” I don’t know what he’s talking about, so I just hold him as tightly as I can, afraid that he’ll get back up again.

“I’m an idiot.” He repeats, “For yelling like that after you told me a story about how awful your father was.”

I rest my head in the crook of his neck, “It’s alright, Baz. It was kinda sweet to see you so worried for me.”

He kisses the top of my head lightly, “I do have one question.”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get to London? From Wales.” He asks.

“I made it a few towns over, but it was winter and my cuts were starting to get infected. I was sure I was going to die.” I tell him, “Then I met this woman, a goatherd named Ebb, who fixed me up and then sent me on my way. Somehow, I made it to London.”

“Ebb?” he asks. 

“Yeah, Ebb,” I say, “she had a brother too, his name was Nico, but he wasn’t around very often. He lived in London actually. I met him once while I was there.”

“Ebb and Nico are the names of my Aunt Fiona’s crew. And they have goats.” He sounds surprised.

I snuggle up against him, “Funny how the world works that way, isn’t it?” 


	11. chapter ten

**chapter 10**

**_Scarborough, United Kingdom - 1718_ **

**basilton**

“I want to get very drunk tonight.” Niall announces when we dock in Scarborough’s harbor.

“I see nothing wrong with that.” Trixie says.

“If you make asses out of yourselves you’re renounced from the crew.” I warn them. 

“And you think we’re going to let you get away with not getting wasted with us?” Simon asks me, intertwining our fingers for persuasion’s sake. “Because that’s not happening, darling.”

I roll my eyes at them all, “I, for one, am not going to make a fool out of myself. I’ll stay relatively sober, just to make sure that you guys don’t fuck everything up somehow.”

Keris shakes her head, “You have no faith in us.”

“I really don’t.”

“A wise decision, really,” Niall replies.

Dev nods in agreement, “He’s right.”

“Are we going to get wasted or not?” Trixie asks, she’s ridiculously impatient about her alcohol. 

“Fine!” I exclaim, “We’re going to get drunk. Happy?”

“Very,” Keris says. “Let’s go.”

We make our way into town, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Niall, of course, finds a pub within our first ten minutes walking, called the Merchant Irish bar. He’s biased on the name, but insists that because they are Irish, they’ll have good whiskey. 

I roll my eyes at him, but lead the crew in anyways.

We find a table for the crew and send Niall to procure drinks. We sit around the table in a circle, Keris beside Trixie at my left and Simon at my right, with Niall between Simon and Dev when he returns.

“Exactly how wasted do you plan on getting tonight?” I ask Simon, recalling the last time we drank.

Simon shrugs, but his grin tells me everything I need to know.

“Incorrigible,” I tease him, kissing a spot on his neck.

Dev makes a point of gagging.

I look up, “Do you want to test me, Devlin?”

“What’s Dev doing?” Niall returns with pints in hand. He distributes one to each of us. “I could only carry enough for you all to have one.”

“A shame,” Trixie sighs.

“You won’t need any more than that, Trixie.” Keris says, “You can’t drink more than a pint without passing out or making a fool out of yourself. 

She stole my thunder. 

“He was making fun of Baz and I.” Simon says, answering Niall’s original question.

“We’d all love to make fun of you and Basilton. Only Dev is stupid enough to,” Niall replies.

“That’s because Dev thinks he’s special because he’s a Grimm.” I point out. 

“Aren’t I?” Dev asks, “I’m your cousin, you think I should have the right to tease you.”

“No, I don’t think that.” I sigh, “But Malcolm would give me hell if we threw you overboard.”

He looks disappointed and slightly offended. 

“Yeah, Dev!” Niall says, “You don’t get any special treatment. But I vote we throw you overboard.”

“You can’t because Basil’s scared of his daddy,” Trixie says (she’s already halfway through her pint). Dev snickers and Niall clamps a hand over his mouth.

“I’d watch what you say, Trixie.” Keris says for me, “He doesn’t give a fuck about throwing you overboard.”

“I might mourn the loss for a second, more than I would mourn Dev at least,” I say, grinning.  
“Hey!” Dev cuts in, but I ignore him. “ _This_ is why Malcolm was so eager to be rid of you.”

That gets my attention, though I don’t let the crew see. I turn to look at Dev, raising an eyebrow. “And I’d be willing to risk Malcolm’s hell if to be rid of you, so watch your mouth, Grimm.”

The table goes quiet and Simon takes my hand under the table. I haven’t told him anything about Malcolm, but there isn’t much worth mentioning. My father and I just don’t get on well. It’s certainly nothing compared to Simon’s father. Malcolm is just a bit more traditional, a bit more judgemental. Dev may have been right that he was eager to be rid of me, but it wasn’t like the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual.

“Aye, Kelly, get a few more pints?” Trixie says, and for once I’m glad that Trixie is an almost-alcoholic.

Niall gladly delivers and soon we’re all down about four pints. Trixie and Niall are both well past tipsy and Simon is getting there. Niall has been trying to flirt with Dev (with no success) for nearly ten minutes with Dev laughing and trying to let him down easy. Niall is somewhat like Simon, where he likes anyone. And when he’s drunk, Niall will kiss anything with a mouth (more observation is required with Simon, although he’s attached himself to my arm).

“Alright, I can’t handle this anymore,” Dev stands.

“Devvv,” Niall, who’s laying his head on the table, whines.

“No, Niall, and don’t even ask again because no amount of pouting is going to make me consider lads.” Dev sighs, “I’m going to find another drink and a girl.”

“I want you on board tonight.” I tell Dev and he waves a hand, which I take as assent.

After Dev leaves, Niall slumps in his chair, defeated. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah,” Keris says bluntly, “he really doesn’t.”

“I want him to like me!” Niall lets his head fall onto Simon’s shoulder, and Simon looks up at me before brushing Niall’s hair off his cheek. 

“It’s alright, Niall, you’ll find a man someday.”

Niall just snuggles against Simon. I let him because he’s sad and because Simon seems fine with the whole situation.

“To be fair, the fact that you’ve set your sights on Dev shows you’ve got a pretty low bar.” I tell him. 

“You haven’t seen him shirtless, Basil.”

“I don’t hope to.”

Trixie starts giggling uncontrollably like the drunkard that she is. “We should dance!” 

I shake my head, “You guys can, but I’m going to finish my drink like a sensible person before even daring to make a fool of myself.”

“Can I dance with Niall?” Simon asks me.

“Why not, you needn’t have to ask me.” I answer, “Just don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” Simon kisses me before getting up with Niall.

They throw themselves onto the dancefloor, which is not an understatement. I look away from them, trusting that still-partially-sober Simon will keep from doing anything stupid. But when I look back, I no longer trust in much. 

Niall and Simon are dancing together, and not particularly innocently. At least on Niall’s part. Simon is letting him do whatever he’s doing though, but staring directly at me while he does it. And I don’t know how to feel. 

 

**simon**

I don’t know what I’m doing. Niall is grinding up against me, and I don’t really mind. He’s drunk and sad and I would do the same thing, but Baz is making me nervous. He has his head tilted quizzically, as if he doesn’t know what to think of the current situation. 

I let Niall take my hand and pull me onto the dancefloor. Partially because I want to make Baz jealous. 

Which is a horrible thing to say, but I feel justified. 

He said not to make him jealous, and so, of course, the first thing I wanted to try was to make him jealous, but it seems like I’m going to have to do more than dance with another bloke. 

I lower my lips to Niall’s neck, he’s a little bit shorter than me, so it works. When I look up at Baz again, his eyes are wide and the look on his face is murderous. I open my mouth against the other boy’s neck, sending a wink Baz’s way. 

I feel almost like I’ve become Baz. It feels like I have his height, flirtation, everything. And I’m not sure I dislike it, but I know I’d prefer  _ his _ lips on  _ my  _ neck. 

His eyes are lidded now; he looks about as angry as he does turned on, so that’s a good thing. I hope. 

I put my arms around Niall’s waist and pull him flush to my chest. He moans in surprise, and I think I hear Dev’s name amidst some incoherent rambling. This poor boy is almost more of a disaster than I am. 

Apparently, my rather protective grip on Niall is too much for him. He downs his entire pint (he had about half left), and makes his way toward us. I act nonchalant, pretending like he isn’t staring at me like he wants to devour me. 

He comes up next to me. “Mind if I steal you away for a bit?” He purrs in my ear, “I think you’re getting a little too ahead of yourself here, love.”

Niall pouts, “Really, Baz, you’re taking him back so soon?” He doesn’t let go of me. “I see why you like him so much.”

Gods, he’s wasted. And done for.

“Oh, Niall,” Baz’s voice is teetering on the edge of menacing, “I’d be careful what you say next.”

I do my best to pry Niall off of me. This is fun, but I only want Baz jealous, not murderous. “Go find Dev again, yeah? I’m sure he’ll be more open to conversation now.”

Niall seems to consider it for a moment before nodding and running off.

“Alone.” Baz says, “Finally.”

“Baz, I didn’t know he would do that.” I try to defend myself. 

He smirks, “Of course you didn’t, and I don’t mind that honestly, but you, Simon Snow, are a bloody fuckin’ tease.”

“Oh,” I swallow, looking up at him nervously. His fingers find my hips and pull me towards him, and a little gasp escapes my lips. 

“We’re getting out of here.” He takes my hand and pulls me towards the door. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, though I’m not really protesting. I kinda like Baz like this. However  _ this  _ is.

“Back to the ship.” He says simply, taking my hand and pulling me along. 

“Already?” 

“I have plans for us there.” He growls and my face flushes. 

I want to ask what kind of plans, but I’m not sure I can handle the answer while we’re still in public. So I allow him to drag me back to the ship. It’s not until we’re in his room that he even looks at me, and it’s like he’s going to shag me right against the door (I wouldn’t put it past him, either).

“A lovely evening we’re having,” I say, grinning. Baz isn’t amused.

“I’d stop talking, Snow.” He presses me against the door, and he might just shag me right here and now. I’m not sure I would complain.

“Whatcha gonna do to me, huh?” I have found that challenging him is my new favorite thing. 

He doesn’t speak, just lets his fingers trail down the center of my chest, unbuttoning my tunic as he goes. I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him. To my surprise, he doesn’t soften into the kiss like he usually does. Instead, he kisses back as fiercely as possible, pushing away the fabric covering my chest and pulling at the waistband of my trousers. 

“Can I?” He purrs into my mouth. 

“Gods, yes.”

He breaks the kiss and gives me a wicked look. Then he falls to his knees, and I stop thinking clearly. In fact, I stop thinking at all. 

 

**penelope**

_ The Natasha  _ is docked in the same harbor we are. Perhaps the Gods have finally answered my prayers. My crew huddles around me, waiting for my orders. 

“I’m going into town,” I say decisively.

Gareth frowns, “That’s all?”

“We’re not boarding  _ The Natasha _ . That would be a suicide mission. So, we’re going into town to find Basil’s crew.”

“And if we can’t find them?” Rhys asks.

Philippa cuts in, “Then we board the ship.”

“What other choice do we have?” Gareth nods in agreement. “Penelope, if we’re going to get Simon back, we can’t keep hiding from Pitch.”

“Remind me who’s the captain here?” I make my voice as dangerous as I can. 

“You are.” Philippa looks at the ground, slightly shameful. 

“Exactly. And that’s why I am going into town, while you all stay right here.” I treat them to my worst glare. “If I hear one peep about you disobeying orders, then I’ll keelhaul all of you and run this ship on my own.”

They don’t say anything after that, so I take my leave and stalk down the gangplank into the night.

Scarborough is quaint at least. There are flower boxes on the windows outside of pubs that reek of bad liquor and smoke. A few groups of people have spilt out into the street, and their raucous laughter is setting me on edge. 

I keep my head down as they pass, but apparently not enough. 

“Oi!” shouts one of them, a freckled kid with bright red hair, “You’re Penelope Bunce, aren’t you?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” I answer.

“I’m asking,” the boy says because apparently he does not understand humor, “isn’t that obvious?”

“She meant it as a joke, you moron!” a girl with very wispy hair elbows him in the side and he doubles over in pain. 

“Trixie! That hurt!”

“Of course it did, you’re drunk.”

I decide that I have to just ask them if they know where Basilton is. Clearly, I’m not getting anywhere at this rate.

“Do you two know where Basilton Pitch is?” I ask, “Is he here?”

“What do you want with our Captain?” the red-haired boy asks me, and  _ oh  _ this  _ is Basilton’s crew? I expected them to be a little more...intelligent.  _

“We took her first mate hostage, idiot, that’s why she wants to see Baz.” The girl, Trixie, I think the boy called her, is the voice of reason in this odd couple. 

“You called him Baz! Thank the Gods he’s not here or you would be dead.”

“I wouldn’t be dead, Simon’s made him all soft. He’s wishy-washy now.”

“Wishy-washy?! Our dear Captain is definitely not  _ wishy-washy _ .”

This is by far the strangest conversation that I have ever been privy to. These two are so drunk it’s almost comical. But the fact that Simon’s made Basilton go  _ soft  _ is such an odd thing to say. 

“What do you mean Basilton’s gone soft because of Simon?” I ask them. 

“Oh! Well there’s a question for the ages,” Trixie says with a drunken giggle.

“They’re shagging of course.” The boy says at the same time. 

“What?!” None of this makes any sense, I think I need a translator for these people. 

“She’s not supposed to know that, arsehole!” Trixie smacks the boy over the head, but not very hard, “You weren’t supposed to know that.” She explains to me. 

“Clearly…” I’m so confused right now. 

For a moment, I wonder if their words hold any truth. Simon did seem so . . . happy with Basilton. But it’s nonsense. Simon isn’t that trusting, Basilton wouldn’t have let down his guard so easily, unless . . .

No, it’s nonsense, all of it. There are so many reasons to know that it’s blasphemous. They’re just loaded to the gunnells, completely drunk. Simon wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t lose him like that, for _ that _ bastard of a man. I didn’t even know Simon liked men, which he probably doesn’t because nothing else they’re saying is true.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of bickering from Trixie and Freckles. 

“I need to speak with your captain,” I interrupt their nonsense right back, “as soon as possible.”

“Well, this was supposed to be a pretty quiet stop for us.” Trixie explains, sobering up a bit. “So I think arranging a meeting somewhere else would work better.”

“Amsterdam!” cries Freckles, “Let’s meet in Amsterdam!” He flings his arms wide, almost smacking Trixie in the face, “I’ve always wanted to visit, haven’t you? I hear it’s a beautiful city.”

“Amsterdam then.” Trixie says, grabbing a hold of the boy’s shoulders so that he doesn’t cause her any bodily harm. 

“Amsterdam.” I agree, hardly listening to what I’m saying, my thoughts are swirling around too much. 

“We’ll be going now.” Trixie says, pulling the other boy along with her. “If need be, you can consult Basilton in the morning.”

“In the morning.” I repeat, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. 

I watch their retreating figures, and don’t even bother to follow. 

“I think I need to sleep.” I say into the darkness. “Nothing makes any sense anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, everyone. I've been super sick all week, so this has taken much longer to post than anything else in the past. hopefully we should have another chapter up for you tonight or tomorrow. 
> 
> much love to those who are still reading,   
> ez


	12. chapter eleven

**chapter 11**

**_The Natasha - 1718_ **

**simon**

There’s a sharp knock at Baz’s cabin door in the middle of the night, both of us jumping. We’d been dozing in Baz’s bed after a particularly good shag (Baz truly did have plans).

“Don’t you dare get up.” I mutter, pulling Baz closer to my chest.

“If I don’t, they’ll barge in.” Baz replies, sighing as he pulls himself up and out of bed. I groan, but he swats at me before pulling on a tunic and trousers as quickly as possible and cracking open the door.

“Basil!” I hear Trixie exclaim.

“What the bloody hell do you want, Trixie? This ought to be good.” Baz demands, crossing his arms. It’s amazing: he looks perfectly composed and respectable despite the fact that he was rightfully shagged less than an hour ago.

“You’ll never guess who we saw tonight!” Niall shouts. Baz winces, taking a step back.

“Who? Bloody Father Christmas?”

“Bunce!” Niall crows.

I sit up, fully awake now.

Baz, bless him, keeps his composure. “Is that so? And what did my old friend say?”

“She wants to meet with you again, but we told her this was a quiet stop, so we agreed to meet in Amsterdam.” Trixie explains.

“I love Amsterdam,” Niall says quietly.

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam,” Trixie replies.

“Enough!” Baz puts a hand up for them to be silent. “So we’re meeting Bunce in Amsterdam? Very well, set sail.”

“Right now?” Niall asks.

“Well, get Keris and Dev to set sail. You two help when you’ve sobered up.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Trixie asks, “Shag Simon while you’ve still got the chance?”

I expect Baz to slit her throat right there, but he just laughs. “Among other things,” he says, before slamming the door in their faces.

“Baz?” I say, sitting at the edge of the bed now.

Baz sighs heavily, “I’m afraid it’s time for a reckoning with Bunce. We can’t avoid her any longer.”

“Not yet.” I point out. “We still have some time, darling.”

He comes over to sit next to me, “It’s hardly any time. A few days at the most.”

I take his hand, “We’ll make use of it.”

Baz kisses me, pressing me back into his bed.

 

Baz and I don’t leave his cabin until dawn breaks, finding Keris steering the ship.

“I’m going to take the helm.” Baz says, looking around. Trixie and Niall are still nowhere to be seen. Dev is cleaning the anchor. “Man the crow’s nest? I think Trixie and Niall are still asleep.”

“I’ve got it.” I kiss him one last time before we part ways. I climb the rope ladder, sitting in the crow’s nest of  _ The Natasha. Natasha _ ’s crow’s nest is bigger than ours, easier to be comfortable in. I sit, pull my knees up to my chest, and watch the horizon. The crow’s nest is the easiest job on a ship, though sometimes boring.

I don’t mind it right now. Without Baz to distract me, I’ve started thinking about Penny.  _ What am I going to tell her? What am I going to do? _

Certainly I would go back, wouldn’t I? Penny is my captain, her crew is mine. As much as I’ve felt at home here with Baz, I don’t know if I could stay here forever. But could I stay away forever? Would Penny even let me go back if I told her the truth (like I want to)? How could I leave Baz?

I lean over the crow’s nest, looking down at Baz manning the helm. He’s steering and conversing with Keris, who looks worried. I can’t see Baz’s face. I lean back, taking a deep breath. I don’t know what I’m doing here; what I’m doing at all. I wish I hadn’t gotten us into this mess, but I don’t know if I’d trade it for anything. These few weeks with Baz have been the best of my life.

_ I love him _ , I realize. I love him and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

 

**penelope**

“Amsterdam? Why Amsterdam?” Gareth asks, frowning.

“I have no bloody idea. I got distracted and I just nodded along,” I admit. I don’t continue. The crew doesn’t need to know what Baz’s crew told me. It probably holds no weight. “Let’s just get going. I need Simon back.”

Gareth nods, “We all need Simon back.”

 

**basilton**

“Baz! There’s a ship!” Simon calls from the nest.

I’ve been steering us to Amsterdam, running through a future conversation with Bunce over and over in a million different ways.

I pull out a spyglass. There’s a small boat, not far from our own. I find the flag, which has a goat on it.

A goat.

I stifle a laugh, knowing exactly who it is.

“Another visit from my aunt!” I call back.

“Oh, lovely,” Simon replies, sounding very unpleased. He climbs down and I call the rest of the crew onto the deck to prepare for boarding.

Some thirty minutes later, Fiona’s ship,  _ The Kid  _ because, you know, goats, comes up to the side of mine. Fiona stretches a gangplank across and boards, followed by her crew: Ebb and Nico. Before I can say anything to her, Ebb lets out a high sound and runs over, practically tackling Simon. She’s hugging him, kissing his face, and taking him by the shoulders to examine him fully.

“Simon! You’re alive! And you look so good!” Ebb says, taking his hands. I remember Simon telling me that Ebb helped him after he ran from Wales, but I’m still not aware of the whole story. Fiona looks absolutely baffled but it’s not my story to tell.

Simon smiles sheepishly, “It’s good to see you, Ebb.”

Ebb is almost crying now, her eyes watery. “How did you end up with Basil?”

“It’s a long story, really.”

“A story that you’ll have to tell us all later.” Fiona cuts in. Simon startles like he forgot we were here.

“Oh, leave my boy alone, Fi.” Ebb waves a hand dismissively.

Fiona frowns, but doesn’t argue with Ebb, which is odd. I tell myself to ask her about it later. She turns to me. “Where are you off to, Basil?”

“Amsterdam,” I reply.

“In any rush?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Oh? Dear nephew, please explain why you seen hesitant to take time for your aunt.”

I try and fail not to roll my eyes. “I have to return Simon to Penelope Bunce in Amsterdam. And I don’t think that she’d appreciate me being late.”

“Return? To Penelope Bunce? Again, there are some holes in your story, Basil.” She counters. 

“I’m Penny’s first mate.” Simon explains to her. 

“And my nephew kidnapped you? He’s crazier than I thought.”

Simon laughs, actually laughs, at Fiona! We’re making progress. “It was a bit more of a mutual decision than that. I thought he was crazy too, though.”

“Hey, you two aren’t allowed to form a front against me,” I interject.

Simon puts his arm around my waist. “I can do whatever I please,  _ darling _ , and so can your aunt.”

I shake my head and start backing away. “You are both horrible.”

Fiona gives me a small nod of approval, which I think is meant to be for Simon and I, and I give her a small smile in return. I knew they’d both come around eventually. 

“Basil!” Ebb’s hand on my shoulder halts my return to my crew. 

“Ebb,” I say in reply.

“Is he happy?”

“Excuse me?”

“Simon,” Ebb urges, glancing at Simon who is still talking with Fiona. “Is he happy?”

“I . . .” I trail off. “I think so. I want to say yes.”

“He seems so. So much happier than he was when I found him. Healthier,” she nods.

“How  _ did  _ Simon end up with you if you’re part of Fiona’s crew?”

“Well, before Fi and I sailed  _ The Kid,  _ I told her I couldn’t be a pirate anymore. It wasn’t right for me, see? Too much anger and death. I told Fi I loved her but I couldn’t stay in her crew. I went home to my goats and while I was there, I found Simon. I fixed him up for a few months and sent him on his way. I loved him, though, still do. It’s good to see him here, happy. Anyway, Fi found me a few months later, saying she’d be mundane if I came with her.”

“Why would she do that?” I can’t help but ask.

“Love makes people do strange things, Basil.”

I look over at Simon, who is talking animatedly with Fiona, and smile. “Yeah, it really does.”

 

**simon**

“So, you and Ebb?” Baz asks, lightly, as we return to his cabin for the night. Fiona and her crew stayed to sup with the crew, then went on their way as we continue to Amsterdam.

I’m not ready to arrive in Amsterdam.

“It was good to see her again. I’ve missed her,” I say.

“She definitely seemed fond of you.”

I nod, smiling. “Ebb was good to me. I’m glad she’s with Fiona now, though.”

Baz hums in response and the conversation falls out into comfortable silence. We make it back to Baz’s cabin and undress for bed. I’ve taken to sleeping without a shirt since I told Baz about the scars because it’s hot enough in Baz’s cabin (he sleeps with maybe three blankets. It’s madness).

“How long until Amsterdam?” I ask as I sit on Baz’s bed.

“Five days or so,” Baz replies, sitting beside me.

I lean my head on his shoulder. “I still have no idea what I’m going to say to her,” I murmur.

Baz reaches to run his fingers through my hair. “There is time for you to figure it out,” he pauses. “I’m sure she’ll take you back without hesitation.”

“I . . .” I start to say, but I stop. I don’t know what I want or what I want to tell Baz. This is hard.

Baz turns and kisses the top of my head. Then he lays back, pulling me with him, against his chest. “Simon, I worry that these may be our last days together.”

“Baz—”

“Let me finish,” Baz interrupts. “If they are, I want you to know something.”

I wait for Baz to tell me what this something is, but he doesn’t. He lifts my chin and kisses me, slow and sweet. He holds the kiss for a moment, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Simon Snow, I’m in love with you.” Baz says, not meeting my eyes. “These are the things that typically go poetically unsaid, but whatever the hell we started that night in Donegal has clearly grown into something much bigger. And somewhere along the way, Simon, you courageous idiot, you made me fall for you. I love you, and I wanted you to know before you leave me.”

“Gods, Baz . . .” I trail off, not sure how to respond to him. No one has ever spoken to me like this.

“You don’t have to return it,” Baz says, giving me a sad, careful smile.

“No, Baz, I do! I love you too.” I take his face in my hands. “I’ve fallen for you, too.”

Baz’s smile is real, then. He kisses me again in the same way as before, delicate, and over and over again. He kisses my neck and my shoulder, tracing patterns on my bare skin. He traces my scars and tells me how much he loves me, whispering lots of sweet nothings that feel like everything.

I have no idea how I’m going to leave him.

 

“Simon,” Baz calls from across the deck.

I turn from helping Trixie and Keris load things onto the ship. We’ve made a short stop for supplies. We’ll be in Amsterdam tomorrow morning.

Baz motions for me to come to him.

“Go on, we’ll get Dev,” Keris says, patting my arm.

I nod, leaving them to go to Baz. “Hi,” I say, leaning in to kiss him.

Baz stops me with a hand on my chest. “We need to talk,” he says quietly.

“Oh,” I say, “yeah, okay.”

Baz takes my hand and pulls me to the stern, leaning against the railings. “Tomorrow we meet with Bunce.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“What are you going to say to her?”

“I have no idea.”

Baz pulls me into his arms, so quickly it startles me. “Gods, I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Baz, what if you didn’t?”

Baz pulls away, staring at me like I’ve gone mad. “What?”

“I was thinking and—” Baz cuts me off.

“No, absolutely not.”

“What?”

“No,” Baz says again. “You’re going back to Bunce. You’re her first mate. This was fun, Snow, but I can’t  _ keep  _ you.”

I want to argue, but he’s right. I wasn’t even sure about it myself, staying here. But how can I leave him? “But Baz—”

“No!” Baz waves a hand, like he’s brushing the suggestion away. “This is not up for debate, Snow.”

Damn, he’s using my last name.

“I’m not ready to lose you either,” I say, frowning.

Baz sighs, “We got more time than I ever imagined we could, bless my crew. But it’s time to end this, Simon.”

_ This.  _ “What?  _ Us? _ ” Baz doesn’t answer me. “Baz!”

“I don’t see how we could keep this up. It’s not as if we could write letters. And we don’t have a set future together.” Baz says it all so calmly, so nonchalantly.

I cross my arms over my chest. “So that’s it?

“It’s not like I want this, Snow.”

“Simon,” I correct him.

_ “Simon,”  _ Baz says pointedly as he takes my face in his hands. “We really don’t have any other choice.”

“That’s not true!” I exclaim, “We have whatever we make out of this. We don’t have to end this. We  _ can’t  _ end this.”

Baz looks down and I notice that his eyes are glassy. “Unless you have a better idea,” he mutters.

“I . . .” I don’t.

“Didn’t think so, darling,” Baz says, sighing.

“There has to be something,” I say more to myself than him; I know that he has no hope for us at the moment.

“There isn’t, Simon.” Baz lets go of me, turning so he’s facing the ocean rather than me.

I bite my lip before wrapping my arms around his waist and setting my chin on his shoulder. “Why are you so tall?” I grumble.

Baz laughs a little, turning his head to kiss my temple. “Look, Simon, I just wanted to make this all clear. You can’t stay here.”

My breath catches. “I know.”

“Good,” Baz says softly, and I think he’s almost trying to convince himself. 

I don’t feel like focusing on the sad things, not with this beautiful man standing right in front of me. I remove one of my arms from his waist in order to take his hand. It’s almost like we’re dancing. Everything has really come full-circle, hasn’t it? 

“I love you.” I tell him. 

He doesn’t reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made a Tumblr for all of our writings! it is @iphys-ianthe-writes and it's pretty grand so i hope that you'll follow it.


	13. chapter twelve

 

**chapter 12**

**_Amsterdam, The Netherlands - 1718_ **

**basilton**

Simon holds my hand so tightly that I think it might be losing blood flow. And apparently, public displays of affection don’t seem to bother him.

We’re to meet Bunce, alone, in the _Drowned Lovers’ Pub_. Fitting, I suppose. Although neither of us have drowned yet (though nobody said it had to be literal). But there’s still time for a ridiculously dramatic end to our tale.

Simon and I step into the pub, surveying the room. I catch sight of Bunce’s purple hair before Simon does, but I don’t point it out to him. For a few seconds longer, he’s mine.

But then Bunce sees him, I let go of his hand, and she nearly tackles him. She’s hugging him and they’re both crying. I take a step away, this isn’t my place.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Bunce demands, holding Simon by his forearms and looking him up and down.

Simon shakes his head. “I have so much I need to tell you,” he whispers, and my pulse quickens. I don’t want him telling her about anything. About us really. I want it to stay our million little secrets. Not hers.

“Soon,” Bunce nods, then turns to me. “Basilton, it’s about time.”

“Let’s sit, why don’t we?” I offer.

“Fine.” Bunce has Simon by his arm, pulling him to her table. It’s round, allowing for Simon to sit between Bunce and I, but I try to stay as far away from him as I can so that Bunce’s eagle eye doesn’t suspect anything.

“How much do you want for his return?” Bunce asks, always straight to the point.

I rest my chin on my hand. “Hm, his weight in gold?”

Bunce rolls her eyes, “Impossible.”

“Fine. What can you actually pay me?”

“Five hundred gold pieces?”

“Too little.”

“Seven hundred gold pieces?”

“Do you really think so little of your first mate?” I ask her, knowing very well that I’m winding her up.

She narrows her eyes, “One thousand.”

“Two thousand.” I counter.

Simon rolls his eyes at me. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he whispers. I give him a wicked grin in reply.

“One thousand and five hundred,” she says, “and that’s my final price.”

“Alright then.” I agree; it’s a pretty fair price. It’ll buy us some good alcohol and perhaps some more luxuries for the ship.

“That was easy enough,” she says. “I’m going to get a few members of my crew and we can pay the ransom today.”

I nod and she gets up from the table, promising that she will be back in a matter of minutes. Simon looks at me.

“A thousand five hundred?” he asks.

“You’re quite valuable to me as well.” I shrug, squeezing his hand.

Simon watches me. “I’m going to miss you.”

I nod, not wanting to talk because if I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. I was so stupid, letting Simon get so close to my heart on borrowed time. I was so stupid letting myself get closer, and I was stupid thinking we could be anything at all. It’s all going to end and I knew that it would from the moment it started.

But I wouldn’t trade a second of it. For anything.

Simon takes my hand. “Baz?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Fuck. Now I have to say something. “I love you too.” I tell him, “I love you so much that it fucking hurts. I can’t stand that we’re going to have to leave each other, but if the Gods want us to be together as much as we do, then it’s all going to work out. It has to.”

“Woah.” Simon says softly, “I didn’t know you had that much faith in the Gods.”

“Only on certain occasions,” I answer.

“And if this doesn’t work out?”

 _It has to._ “Then it doesn’t, darling.”

Simon chews his bottom lip and I want to kiss him. I want to be the one biting his lip instead. But I can’t do that. If I did, I’d never let him go. Simon’s holding my hand like he won’t.

“Let me go, Simon,” I whisper, and for a moment he looks panicked, defensive, like he’s about to argue. “Penelope will be back any minute,” I add.

He sighs, “I know.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I start to worry. “Do you want her to know about us?”

“Do you?”

“No,” I say automatically.

“I want to tell her,” he says honestly, “but I think she’d either hate me or hold it against me. And she’s my best friend. I can’t let that happen.”

“Maybe there’ll come a time that we can tell her.” I say, trying to be as optimistic as possible, more for Simon than myself. I bring Simon’s hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “Don’t lose hope for us, Simon.”

“Do you have hope for us?” Simon asks.

“Perhaps a bit,” I admit. “If you and Ebb can find each other again, I believe we can too.”

Simon nods, “I just hope you’re right.” He lets go of my hand.

Bunce walks up to the table, two of her crew members following. They each drop a sack on the table. “There, Pitch, your gold. Now give me my first mate back.”

Simon meets my eyes for a moment.

“He’s all yours, Bunce.” I say, trying as hard as I can to convey everything in one glance towards Simon.

 

**simon**

Baz gets up without another word. He nods at Penny, glances at me, and walks away. I watch him until he’s out of sight, and it hurts. This could be Baz walking away from me, from _us_ , from ever seeing each other again.

I almost run after him.

 _I love you_. I wish I’d told him sooner. I wish I’d told him more. I wish we’d had more time.

“Come on, Simon.” Penny grabs my hand. “Let’s get back to the ship. We’ve missed you.”

“It’s been driving us mad without you,” Gareth says.

“I’ve missed you all,” I tell them.

 

“I’m so glad to have you back, Simon. I was so scared for you,” Penny says. We're sitting on the desk, just me and her.

“Don’t worry, Penny. Baz—Basil—and his crew treated me just fine,” I assure her.

“Hm, I suppose he is a man of his word.”

I nod, “They were all kind to me, really.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re back with us, safe.” Penny pats my shoulder before standing up. “I’m off to bed.”

“I’m gonna stay out here a bit longer, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Penny frowns but doesn’t argue. “Goodnight, Simon.” She squeezes my shoulder before going back to her cabin.

I lean back against the mast, staring out at the sea.

I miss Baz. I shouldn’t miss Baz. I should be happy here. This is my home, my crew. But I love him. I love him so much that it hurts. I wish I had more time with him, or that we’d never had all that time at all. But those were the best weeks of my life. But I feel guilty that they were. Penny saved me, gave me my life. But Baz . . .

What if I never see Baz again? What if that was it?

I feel restless, almost stuck, like I’ve just reached the end of the line. I stand and start pacing. Then I punch the mast. I don’t mean to, I didn’t think about it. But a not-unwelcome twinge of pain shoots up my arm. I do it again. Another twinge, but again, it almost helps.

I’m not angry at Baz. Or Penny. Or myself. But at the same time, I’m furious with all of them, including me. I’m angry that things are ending like this and there’s nothing I can do about it. Gods, I miss Baz. He’d tell me to stop, pull me to his chest and hold me there until I told him what’s wrong and calmed down. And I shouldn’t want that from him. Baz was just supposed to be a one night thing, yet here we are. I betrayed Penny, leaving her like that. All for Baz.

Next thing I know, I’m just going for the mast. Punching it over and over. It doesn’t damage the mast, but it hurts. The pain doesn’t bother me; it’s something to focus on other than this mess I’m in. I don’t know how long I do it for. I’m breathing heavy and my hands are bruised and bloodied when the captain’s cabin door swings open.

 _Stop_ , I tell myself. Penny is going to be angry. But I can’t bring myself to stop because this seems to be the only thing I can do about all of this.

“Simon!” Penny runs over to me, grabbing my hands and pulling me away from the mast. “Bloody hell,” she murmurs while examining my knuckles. She looks up at me, concerned. I hate Penny being worried for me. “What’s going on, Simon?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell her.

“Simon,” she says again. She’s trying to speak gently to me. “Hey, talk to me.”

“I can’t,” I say, and realize how out of breath I am.

“Yes, Simon, you can.” If only it were that simple. “C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”

I shake my head again. “Nothing, just go back to bed, Penny.”

Penny scoffs, “This obviously isn’t _nothing_.”

I pull my hands out of hers. It hurts to. “It’s nothing important.”

“Simon, anything that’s important you— _this_ important—is important to me.”

“Thanks, Pen, but this isn’t that important.”

I turn and leave Penny on the deck, leaving her for the second time.

 

**penelope**

He still isn’t himself.

Simon is home. We got him back. So why is Simon still fraying at the edges? Why did I find him beating our mast, absolutely destroying his hands?

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

My mind returns to what Basil’s crew said in Scarborough. Could it be true? They were acting . . . odd when we met in the pub. Almost amicable, but as soon as I caught onto their behaviour, they became icy. When I came back with the ransom, they were speaking urgently, leaning close to each other. I don’t know what that meant. Simon looked upset. He’s _still_ upset. But I can’t figure out why.

And I think that’s what I hate the most about this.

I don’t know anything.

I’m usually more intelligent than most, not omniscient exactly, but I pride myself on knowing the goings-on of my crew and the world around me. I’ve fashioned myself some kind of encyclopedia, but apparently that perspective is naïve.

All I know now is that I have to get to the bottom of this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's almost over, everyone... 
> 
> this is the longest fic we've ever written (I'm including hunter here), and we're really hecking proud of it. i hope you enjoy these last few chapters!


	14. chapter thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't my favorite chapter that I've ever written, but hunter made me do it because apparently I'm the only one who can write smut.   
> -ez

**chapter 13**

**_La Rochelle, France - 1718_ **

**simon**

“Simon!” Penny puts her arm around my neck and I freeze up immediately. “Look around you! We’re in France! It’s beautiful, and it’s not even Paris!”

I shrug her off, “Paris isn’t the only city in France, Penny.”

“I know,” she concedes, “but it’s a pretty big one.”

I ignore that little remark, and continue talking: “So what are we even doing here? Do you have any fun plans for tonight?” I haven’t been anything but snarky since I left Baz. Apparently he rubbed off on me. So much so that I can’t stop thinking about him. 

“Not really.” Penny answers, and I’ve almost forgotten my original question. “But I figure that you’re going to find a bar, right?”

This is my chance to slip away, so I take it. “Yeah. I figure that’s what I’ll do.”

She smiles, “I’m glad you’re back with us, Simon. I missed you.”

“Yeah, I missed you too.” I hope she doesn’t notice that I don’t sound sincere at all. It’s not like I haven’t missed her because I have, truly. Only I think I miss Baz more. And I hate myself for thinking that. Penny is my best friend, as close to a sister as I’ll ever have, but Baz is Baz. He’s more than Penny ever could be for me. 

I’m in love with him. My time with him felt infinite, perfect, like it was meant to be. It’s unfair that I have to lose that so soon. 

“I’m gonna sleep.” Penny says, “It’s been a long day. You should go have fun, Si.”

I realize I’ve been standing there, lost in my thoughts, no wonder she’s practically forcing me to leave. 

“Goodnight, Pen. See you in the morning.”

We go our separate ways. 

I find myself in a quaint little pub, located in a small alley-type of side street. I order a pint and just sit, letting the sound of fiddle tunes wash over me.  _ Fiddle tunes  _ that sound achingly familiar. I look towards the stage, but there are too many people blocking my view. 

It’s probably not him anyway, just my brain making up stupid shit because I miss the bastard. 

But then the fiddler begins to play a waltz. I swear  _ he  _ played that very waltz the night we met. And he told me later that he wrote it. It  _ has  _ to be him. It  _ has  _ to be Baz. 

I attempt to push my way through the crowd, but all I get is an annoyed blonde girl hissing at me in rapid fire French. All I catch are swear words. How kind. 

The player finishes the song with a dramatic final note, letting it ring out over the crowd of drunk French people. The crowd parts and I catch a glimpse of long, dark hair. Then I see him.  _ Him.  _ It’s him. Baz. And he looks up at me with the same piercing grey gaze, just like all that time ago, and I swear my heart fucking  _ melts _ . 

He swings his violin case over his shoulder and hops down from the stage, walking over to me. 

“Hey, stranger.” 

“Ba—” 

 

**basilton**

I cut him off. “Shhh, pretty boy, tonight there are no names. Pretend with me.” 

He flushes, and Gods, he’s so beautiful when he’s flustered. I’ve missed making him flustered; I’ve missed all of this so goddamn much. 

“I have a room at the inn next door,” I breathe. 

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” He questions me, a challenging look on his face. 

I give him a wicked smile in answer, pulling him towards the door and out into the street. He kisses me in the flickering light of a streetlamp, my arms around his waist and his around my neck. 

“C’mon, beautiful, we don’t have all night.” He says with a wink. 

“You’re the one who kissed me!” 

“Trivial.” I swear he’s turning into me. 

Again, I take his hand and we make our way to the inn where I booked a room. The rest of my crew is on the ship, but I haven’t been sleeping well in my own bed since Simon returned to Penelope. 

He’s already pulling at my tunic as we make our way up the stairs to my guestroom. It’s driving me insane. When the door finally slams behind us, he doesn’t waste any time. His fingers pull at the hem of my shirt, so I pull it over my head and throw it over a chair in the corner. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” his voice is soft, like he’s stuck in some kind of reverie. 

I don’t reply, just push his already unbuttoned (how did that happen?) shirt from his shoulders. He giggles and pulls my mouth down to his. I spin us around in order to deposit us on the bed, so that I’m conveniently on top of him. 

I lace our fingers together, but stop. Simon’s knuckles feel rough and he winces when I squeeze his hand. I examine his knuckles. They’re covered in various healing scratches and scabs.

“What happened here?” I can’t help asking.

“That hardly matters right now.”

“Simon—”

“Hush,” Simon says before kissing me, fiercely. I decide to drop it for now.

He doesn’t seem particularly phased because he starts furiously pulling at my trousers. 

“Eager, are we?” I ask and he just moans in reply. 

Instead of allowing him to disrobe me (I’m going to make him wait for as long as I can stand it), I grind against him. It definitely works to distract him from his previous task; he’s now moaning unabashedly beneath me. 

He grips my hips and pulls me down to him. Our lips meet and this position gives me less room to tease him, but more to make him moan. I’ve missed him like this.  _ Oh, Simon,  _ I think,  _ I’ve finally got you back where I want you _ . 

Somehow, I pull him into a sitting position so that he’s sitting pressed against the headboard and I’m straddling his lap. 

He looks up at me demurely, feigning an innocence that I know he no longer has. I blame my wonderful influence. 

“What do you want, darling?” I ask him. 

“You on your knees.” He’ll never cease to surprise me.

“Oh?” I say, “What if I want it the other way around?”

“Show me what you want then.” He says, and I sigh.  _ Touché, Snow, touché. If you really want to play this game, love, then I’ll play. But don’t expect me to play fair. _

I pull him to the edge of the bed, and then drop to my knees on the floor, looking up at him with the same false innocence he had before. 

“What do you want me to do here, darling?”

The look he gives me in return is criminal. “Oh, you know what to do.” 

“Do I?” Dear Gods, I love to antagonize him.

“Take off my trousers, dear, it should all come back to you then.” He’s teasing right back. Alright then. 

I see how it is, and so I pull his trousers down and take him in my mouth. He gasps in surprise, probably thought I wasn’t gonna do it. His has no idea. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, “dear Gods…”

Maybe ten minutes later, he’s laying back on the bed, looking absolutely ruined. I lay down next to him, waiting for him to open his eyes again. 

“You’re wicked,” he says from beside me, not looking at me yet. He’s wrecked.

“You’re just noticing this?” I ask him. 

He laughs a little. “Need me to repay the favor?” 

I swallow nervously. “How are you going to do that?”

He leans over to kiss me, which suddenly turns into him on top of me, pushing me into the blankets. He’s working at my trousers with one hand which (unsurprisingly) gets him nowhere. 

He growls in frustration, “Take them off.”

“You’re on top of me, so it’s gonna be pretty hard to do that.”

Clearly annoyed, he rolls off of me and starts pulling off my trousers in a much more effective way. Once I’m fully naked, he shoves me back into the covers. I let him because I want to see where this is going. 

“What do you want?” He asks, and apparently he has no idea where this is going at all either. 

“J-just touch me.” I say. 

He leans in and kisses me, letting his hand trail down my chest. And then he’s touching me, really touching me. I moan, but manage to disguise it as a gasp. He smirks against my mouth. He can see straight through me. 

“Feel good?” He purrs into my mouth. 

I can’t even speak, so I just nod. 

“I’ve rendered you speechless?” He grins, “Incredible.”

Suddenly, his hand starts moving faster, and pure pleasure is coursing through my veins. My vision blurs; everything is tingling and then I tip over the edge with a gasp. 

“Simon,” I whisper reverently when I come to my senses. 

“Baz.” He says, and all is right with the world. 

 

Maybe minutes, maybe hours later, we’re still lying together on the bed. Sated and slightly sticky. Although I’m too content to be bothered. 

Simon is on the edge of sleep, holding me like he’ll never let go. I feel the same way. We still haven’t properly addressed this. If we’re lucky, we won’t have to, but we’re never that lucky.

Although, maybe this is proof that we are. The Gods gave me Simon again.

I turn, kissing his cheek. “Simon,” I say quietly.

Simon groans in reply.

I want to mock him but I don’t have it in me. I’m too happy to be back with him. I’ve missed him too much. I kiss his forehead. How long have I been without Simon? A month? It feels like years.

Simon pulls me closer to him, pressing his lips lazily to my shoulder. There are marks there.

“Was I right, love?”

“Hmm?”

“The gods brought us back together.” I lift Simon’s chin so he looks up at me. He’s beautiful: messy and pleasure-spent, but beautiful. Hell, he’s always beautiful.

“You a pious man now?” Simon mumbles.

“I could be,” I reply, running my thumb across the marks on his jaw. “If it keeps bringing me back to you, I could be.”

“I’ve missed you, Baz,” Simon says. He’s staring at me and he’s more awake now.

I nod. “I don’t want to leave you again.”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“How can you not? I’m not ready to spend weeks, maybe months, pining for you Simon.”

“You called us off before I left, Baz. This just . . . we got lucky.”

“I suppose, but that doesn’t mean I miss you any less.”

Simon doesn’t answer, pressing his face into my shoulder again. “This is only temporary. There’s no way for us to keep this up.” He’s holding me tighter.

“What if we could keep this up?” I sound as wishful as he did when we had this conversation last time, but maybe he had a point then. This reunion has given me some hope for us (though maybe I’m just grasping for straws). Maybe there’s something we can do to keep this more than a secret. 

A secret. 

“There’s no way, Baz. I love you, but you said it yourself: there’s no way.” He sounds sad, but nuzzles against my shoulder in an almost apology. 

“We could tell Bunce,” I say. 

He sits up. “What?”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “She’s your best friend, love. It’s not like she’s not going to accept you. It might take her a while to get used to me, but she loves you, and that’s not going to change because of this.”

“You think so?” He looks towards me, and his eyes are watery. But I see a Simon I don’t think I’ve seen before: a Simon who’s afraid, backed into a corner and feels like he has nowhere to go.

“I know so, Simon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for such sweet and supportive comments we love you all! but we need some help with decisions about our next fic. we have three choices. 
> 
> ~ royalty au 
> 
> ~ highschool au (for @wo2ash)
> 
> ~ performing arts school au


	15. chapter fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna give this chapter a little trigger warning for homophobia. this is the first really big mention of homophobia in this work, so i think it needs a trigger warning. the passage that is the worst is pretty easy to skip over/skim.

**chapter 14**

**_La Rochelle, France - 1718_ **

**penelope**

“Simon, you look terrible. Where are you dragging me?” I demand, though I keep letting Simon pull me through the streets of La Rochelle. Simon didn’t come back to the ship last night, he showed up this morning, messy and obviously marked. It was an eerie echo of Donegal. Then Simon said something about needing me and then started pulling me along. 

“I need to show you something,” he says. 

“Okay?” 

“Just bear with me please,” he continues dragging me along down quiet, cobbled French side streets lined with flower boxes and pâtisseries. He pulls me until we reach a small pub tucked away in an alley. It won’t be very busy this early, so I haven’t an inkling of why Simon is bringing me here.

He opens the door and leads me inside. The pub is empty, except for a lone figure with long black hair sitting at the bar. Simon walks right up, as if he knows the person. I follow him, trusting him.

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

I freeze as Simon stops at the table. “Simon, what’s going on?”

“Bunce,” Basilton greets me before Simon can explain. 

“Simon?” I ask again, but he’s not paying attention to me; he’s staring at Basil with a weird look on his face. 

“So you haven’t told her yet, Simon?” He asks, and Simon shakes his head. 

“I was hoping you would do it,” Simon says. 

I’m still confused. 

 

**basilton**

Simon keeps shooting me desperate looks. Gods, this boy doesn’t fear a sword to his neck, but he genuinely fears Bunce. And Bunce herself seems to be getting ever the more confused. I’m enjoying myself a little too much. But I have to be civil. This only works if I hold my tongue. 

“Have a seat, Bunce.” I gesture to the chair across from me. “Are we not amiable?”

Bunce frowns at me but sits. Simon sits between us, sneaking a hand below the counter to rest on my knee.

“Bunce, there are some, how shall we put this,  _ developments _ you should be informed of.”

“Baz and I are—” Simon begins. 

“Romantically involved.” I finish.

Bunce looks shocked for a brief second but then . . . almost relieved?

“Well, shiver me timbers. That makes so much sense!” She exclaims, and I give Simon a little smirk. I was right. “But wait, you’ve been weird since Donegal, Simon. How do you explain that?” 

“We ought to just tell her the whole story,” I tell Simon.

Bunce nods. “Please.”

“Baz and I met in Donegal. That’s where I ran off to that night. I didn’t know who he was.” Simon speaks slowly, watching the gears turn in Bunce’s head. “I realized who he was when he boarded our ship. We just got lucky after that, docking in the same ports. I visited him. The last time, his crew caught me, and Baz ransomed me. It only made sense, I guess.”

Bunce is looking back and forth between us, somewhat aghast. “Did you defile my first mate, Basilton?”

Simon starts laughing, and I roll my eyes at the both of them. “It was consensual, Bunce, and I don’t think that someone who’s so talented with his tongue is a virgin.” 

Simon glares at me.

Bunce starts coughing, and it takes her quite a while to recover. “There are very few things I wish to never know. This was one of them.”

“You wanted the whole story.” I point out. 

“Unfortunately,” she says. Bunce clasps her hands, sighing. She turns to Simon. “Do you love him?”

“What?” Simon sputters.

“Do you love him?” Bunce repeats, stern. “Do you genuinely love Basilton?”

“I- uh- yes,” Simon sits up a little straighter. “Of course I love him.”

I breathe a sigh of almost relief, although I knew that he would say yes, Bunce still looks unconvinced. 

“What about you, Basilton?” She turns to me now, “Do you love Simon?”

“Yes,” I answer simply. Bunce searches my eyes. I meet her gaze evenly, openly. “I love him. Only Snow could make me do things as stupid as ransoming your crew.”

The flicker of a smile graces Bunce’s face. She looks at Simon again. Simon looks nervous. “So you’ve told me. I’m . . . confused. I don’t understand this. Basilton is a rival. But he makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Simon says, and it sounds like a sigh.

“Then I’m happy for you. But why did we have to have this meeting?”

I cut in. “Bunce, I have a business proposition of sorts.”

“A business proposition?” Bunce raises an eyebrow. 

I nod. I’d given this deal with Bunce a lot of thought. Truly, it is advantageous to both of us. It would expand our crews, our ships, our power. All it takes is a bit of damage to our respective pride. It’s not all for Simon and I’s benefit. Although, this chance never would have presented itself if not for Simon. This boy brings upheaval wherever he goes, I suppose.

“Bunce, if you are willing to set aside your pride I am willing to set aside mine.”

Bunce looks skeptical. “That depends on what I’m setting it aside for.”

“What if we combine our crews into something of a small fleet. Consider it more of an alliance.”

Simon looks at me in surprise, and I realize that I never told him about this little plot of mine, although it had kind of just become fully fledged moments ago. 

“For what? So you can take my first mate as your lover boy?” Bunce asks, incredulous.

“Partly,” I admit. “But with ot without Simon, this could benefit us both. It would double our crews, ship storage, and you’d be lucky to have my crew’s protection.”

“And for a moment I thought you were being civil.” Bunce goes to stand.

“Please,” I scoff, “we both know it’s true. We were rivals for a reason.”

“ _Were_? You assume I’d agree?”

“Let’s call it optimism.”

“Please, Penny, this might actually be a good thing for us. For all of us.” Simon cuts in, and  _ bless him  _ I think she might agree.

“Fine,” she says grudgingly. “But we need to discuss it with our crews.”

Simon takes my hand, “I’m going back with Baz.”

“Why?” Bunce crosses her arms over her chest. 

“I want to talk to his crew, they’re my friends.”

Bunce makes a face at that. “Simon . . .”

“Really, Bunce, you want to bring him to convince  _ your _ crew? Looking as disheveled as he does?” 

Simon gives me another glare for that one. 

“Fine.”

 

**simon**

Baz squeezes my hand as we leave the pub, walking away towards the docks. Penny follows a little ways behind. 

Baz’s crew (soon to be part of my crew?) are lounging around on the deck, sipping from an unmarked bottle that is presumably alcohol. 

“Alcohol? So early in the morning?” I question them and Baz just sighs. 

“Simon!” Trixie jumps up from Keris’s lap. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” I say with a smile.

She greets me with a hug, which interrupts Baz and I’s hand holding. “We’ve missed you so much! Are you back for good or something?”

I look to Baz for guidance.

“We had a meeting with Bunce, and our crews might be joining together.”

“Joining together?” Dev says from his place next to Niall. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that Simon and I will be able to stay together, we’ll have way more manpower, and the seas will be much calmer without the rivalry between Bunce and us.”

“I mean, it sounds like a good idea to me.” Niall says, “What do you think, Keris?”

Keris, who hasn’t yet spoken, “I agree with Niall. It’s a good idea. We’ll be a much more formidable force out here with their help, no matter how much it hurts my pride to admit it. Also, we already know how great of an addition to our crew Simon is. The rest of his crew can’t be that bad.”

“You haven’t met them,” I say ruefully, “but I’m glad that everyone supports Baz’s idea.”

“All in favor?” Baz asks. 

“Aye!” choruses everyone. 

We sit there in amicable silence for a while, until there come shouts from the docks below. 

“Oi! Pitch!” 

We all peer over the railing to see Penny and the rest of her crew standing at the gangplank, seemingly expecting an invitation to enter. 

“Hello there, Bunce. I see you’ve brought friends,” Baz says. 

“Can we come aboard?” Penny asks. 

“Well, I figure that’s why you’re here.” 

She shakes her head and starts climbing the gangplank with Rhys following close behind. All four, Penny, Rhys, Gareth, and Philippa, step onto the deck almost tentatively. It’s not like any of us bite, so I don’t know what they’re scared of. 

“Introduce yourselves, why don’t ya?” Niall says, his accent especially thick. 

“I’m Rhys,” Rhys says nervously. 

“Gonna tell us the story of your peg leg or do we have to win your trust first?” Trixie asks and I wince a little bit. He doesn’t like telling the story. 

Somehow, her comment snaps him into a more defensive mood. “I don’t tell perfect strangers personal stories.”

“Gods, Trixie, shut up.” Keris cuts in, taking the other girl’s hand. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Keris. We don’t know anything about these people.” 

“Okay!” I cut in. “We’re already starting things sour.”

“Basil’s crew needs to learn to watch their mouths,” Rhys retorts.

“And you need to learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut, Rhys.” Penny snaps at him, “We are guests on this ship, could be kicked out anytime Basil feels as if we’ve overstayed our welcome.” 

“I second Bu—Penelope.” Baz says, “So let’s get back to introducing ourselves.” He motions at the rest of his crew.

“I’m Trixie.” Trixie introduces herself with her head resting on Keris’ shoulder. 

“Keris,” she waves. 

“Niall,” he says, “and this here is Dev.”

Dev smiles at Niall, and I look to Baz.  _ Is there something we’re missing?  _

“Since when do you two speak for one another?” Baz asks; he’s as confused as I am, which is a little bit of a relief. 

“Remember how I said he looked hot shirtless?” Niall says, “Well, he looks even hotter naked.” 

“I bloody knew it!” Trixie exclaims, while Dev turns an unsightly shade of crimson.

“Hold on,” Philippa cuts in. “All of you are…” 

“All of us are what?” Baz sounds genuinely interested. 

Everyone looks at Philippa. She looks confused and somewhat unsettled.

“Sodomites?” She says, derisively.

I don’t know what that means, but Baz stiffens. Penny glares at her. Whatever Philippa said, it wasn’t good.

“So what if we are?” Baz practically spits at her. 

“Really, Penelope?” Philippa turns to Penny. She gestures to me and Baz’s crew.  _ “Them?  _ We’re uniting with Basil and his gang of—”

“Don’t say another word.” Keris speaks up, then addresses Penny. “This is the type of crew you have, Bunce?” She turns to Baz. “We’re uniting with  _ them? _ I know you love Simon but—”

“He  _ what? _ ” Gareth cuts in. Baz stiffens again, waiting for another reaction like Philippa’s.

“Penelope, what are we even doing this for?” Rhys asks.

This is going completely differently than I expected it to.

“Wait, everyone calm down,” I say, but Rhys and Penelope have started arguing already. Dev, Niall, and Keris are talking, backing away from my crew, while Trixie stands with her arms crossed, looking murderous. “Bloody hell, all of you shut up!”

Everyone falls silent.

“Simon,” Penny says, “would you explain to our crew what’s going on?”

Our crew looks to me. Philippa still looks disgusted. Rhys and Gareth look troubled, but they appear willing to listen.

I take a deep breath. This is different. This isn’t my best friend who, even if she’s confused and maybe a little disappointed, she loves me. It’s like Philippa has forgotten who I am. Gareth and Rhys certainly don’t trust me as much as Penny does.

Baz’s hand slips into mine, a little vote of confidence. I want to kiss him and slap him for it at the same time. I see the eyes of my crew widen. Penny smiles, just a little.

“So,” I start, “Baz and I are together.”

“Did this happen while you were kidnapped?” Gareth asks, seemingly concerned.

“No, it started before then.”

“That’s why we’re uniting our crews? Because one of ours turned traitor and shagged a rival captain?” Philippa demands.

“This will be good for us,” Penny says, “I am your Captain; I ask for your counsel, never your approval. For better or for worse, Simon and Basil found one another. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. I should hope that as pirates we know that the best of all. We fell for the sea, while others stuck to the land, judging us for our decision. But none of us chose this life, it chose us. They didn’t choose to fall in love, it just happened.”

“Penelope! This isn’t some bloody Shakespeare play! Since when do you trust Basilton? Why are you trusting Simon?!” Philippa is shouting. I wish she would just be quiet. She’s making this difficult.

Baz scoffs. He’s still holding my hand, so I squeeze his. “Please, if I wanted to take down Bunce’s crew, I’d do it. I don’t need to be crafty. My intentions are pure. I do this because it’s beneficial for both crews, and for Simon. Doubt all you want. But in the end, it’s up to your captain.” Penny and Baz exchange a look, one I can’t decipher. They’ll be good captains together.

“Gareth? Rhys? What do you think?” Penny turns to them, ignoring Philippa altogether.

“I don’t like it,” Rhys says, “but I’ll accept it. This partnership will be good for both of us.”

“Gareth?” Penny prompts. 

“I second Rhys.” He answers, “As long as it’s beneficial for everyone.”

Penelope nods. “Basil? Your crew is okay with this?”

Baz looks to everyone, and is met with nods from his crew. “We’ve already agreed.” He says. 

“So we’re just gonna work with them?!” Philippa exclaims. “Is no one going to ask me what I think about this?!”

“I think we all know what you think about this.” Niall mutters under his breath. 

“And none of us appreciate it,” Keris adds.

“Penelope?” Philippa turns to Penny again, like Penny is going to save her from Baz’s crew.

“They’re right, Philippa. You’re going to respect our decision  _ and  _ your new captain and crew members. If you can’t do that . . .” Penny trails off, but the threat is implied.

“You’re just going to send me away like that?” She says, sounding horrified.

“I’m not sending you away. You’re choosing to leave if you continue acting like this,” Penny says. “We can’t have someone like you in our crew.”

“But you can have people like th-them?!” She gestures at Baz’s crew, and me. I don’t know why that hurts so much, but it does. I lean closer to Baz.

“Philippa, Simon has been part of our crew for three years.  _ Three years  _ someone like  _ him  _ has been sailing alongside us, alongside  _ you.  _ You have no right to have a problem with it now.” 

_ Someone like him _ . It rings in my ears. Baz puts his arm around me and all I can do is let myself lean into him. Words like that have a different meaning when it’s your best friend saying them. I’ve never felt like loving Baz is  _ wrong  _ before, but now that’s all I can think. Baz, subtly, kisses the crown of my head, and I sigh a little.

“She has a point,” Gareth says.

“You’re outnumbered, Philippa,” Penny points out. “And I’m afraid that means you’re going to have to leave.”

Philippa is crestfallen.  _ Good,  _ I want to say.  _ You’ve ruined this for yourself. See how it feels to lose your home and all you know. But it’s your fault. _

But I don’t say any of that. I don’t say anything. I just watch her march down the gangplank and away from us in silence.

No one says anything for a while. I guess that we’re all a little shocked. I even liked Philippa, when I thought that I knew her. But I’ve learned that there’s much more to people than meets the eye. I separate myself from Baz.

“I ought to handle her, make sure she gets her things and doesn’t cause any more trouble. How about we gather again for supper to discuss what we all do from here?” Penny suggests.

“That’ll work, Bunce. Who’s ship?” Baz asks.

“Yours,” Penny decides. “Hold my crew, won’t you? It’ll be good for them to get used to each other.”

“Aye,” Baz nods.

Penny nods in return. She turns to me, takes my arm, squeezing it, and walks off to find Philippa.

 

Baz and I have been banished to the crow’s nest. Well, really Baz doesn’t entirely trust our crews together but also wants us to have time alone. Here, we can listen for the sounds of a brawl but also have time together. Like I said before,  _ The Natasha  _ has a rather large crow’s nest. Baz sits with his legs stretched out in front of him and I lean into him. We don’t talk for a while, listening to our crews. I’m not up for talking. I’m glad this all worked. I’m relieved to be back with Baz. But I can’t stop thinking about what Penny said.

_ Someone like him. _

It feels like it’s eating away at me and I have no idea why. This is why I’d rather not think about things. I know Baz can tell that it’s bothering me, but he hasn’t said anything. Sometimes Baz knows just not to talk. I love him for that.

“I’m sorry about your crew member, Simon.”

_ Sometimes  _ he knows.

I make a sound in reply.

He sighs. “Don’t give it too much thought.”

“I didn’t know Philippa would act that way,” I say. “I didn’t know anyone would.”

“You get used to it quickly.”

“That happens often?”

“Yes, Simon, it does. To anyone like us,” Baz’s voice gets quiet, solemn. “You don’t have any experience with sodomites, do you?”

“I didn’t know that’s what it was called,” I admit. “I didn’t know that people would react like that.” I take Baz’s hand. “I didn’t know loving you was  _ wrong. _ ”

“It’s not,” Baz says, sharp and defensive. He squeezes my hand tightly. “It’s not, Simon.”

“Then why did Philippa act like that? Why did Penny . . . ?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain why people hate us so. I can tell you that it’s illegal. It is considered a sin by some.”

“Why should  _ some  _ care whether we’re shagging or not?”

Baz laughs but it’s half-hearted. “That I also don’t know. Sometimes people just can’t be convinced otherwise. Malcolm, my father, was like that. Most pirates don’t care, but Malcolm was never a pirate. He tried to be one, for my mother. She loved him enough to keep him with her. But when my mother died, he stepped away. Fiona took me in. Father eventually got remarried and I stayed with him for a while. By then I knew I liked men. Father did not approve. He was kind about it, but I could still feel his disapproval.”

“I’m sorry, Baz.”

Baz shakes his head. “No, we have it far better than others like us. But I know how painful it is, Simon. I think Bunce did have good intentions, though.” Baz kisses my temple.

I sigh, “I hope so.”

“She stood up for you, didn’t she?” he points out, “That has to count for something.”

“It does,” I say, “but it still hurts.”

Baz gently takes my hand, not saying anything else. He just presses another lingering kiss to my forehead. We sit like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“I love you, Baz,” I tell him. “I don’t care what anyone else says. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“I love you too, Simon.”

I wonder if we would have been able to say this if we weren’t pirates. I wonder, if I’d stayed with Davy and Baz was some high society bloke I met in a pub, would we be able to have this?

Baz runs his thumb over my knuckles, then stops. He pulls my hand up to his face again. “What happened, Snow?”

“Simon,” I correct him.

“What did you do, Simon?” He asks gently.

I don’t answer him at first, trying to pull my hand out of his.

_ “Simon,”  _ Baz says sternly.

“I might’ve gone at it with our ship’s mast,” I mutter.

“You  _ what? _ ”

“I just . . . I dunno, Baz, I started thinking and next thing I know I’m beating the mast.”

“Thinking about what?” Baz asks, rubbing my scarred knuckles again. They’re nearly healed. Just a few spots that didn’t heal as well as the others.

“You, us, the mess we got ourselves into.” I shrug.

“We’ve gotten ourselves out of it, though, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we have.”

 

**basilton**

Bunce, I should stop calling her that, but old habits die hard, comes back a while later. Without Philippa. None of us point it out, I guess that we’re all too scared to. We don’t want to know what happened just yet, although it’s not like we can hold it off forever. 

We’re sitting in a circle, passing around a loaf of bread, cheese, and a bottle of rum. 

“I can’t help noticing that your crew loves the drink, Basil,” Bunce notes as she passes the rum past her.

“You and yours don’t?” I ask.

“Not as much as yours do.”

“Then what do you drink?” I question, slightly horrified.

She laughs a little bit, “We stop often enough to get fresh water, and when we’re on our ship we usually drink watered down wine.”

I wrinkle my nose, “You chose to do this?”

Bunce wrinkles her nose in return. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sighing, I turn away from her and towards Simon. “You really didn’t drink that much alcohol on your ship?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Penny doesn’t really like the taste.” Penny gives him a rather intimidating glare. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

I ignore him. “Really, Bunce, you’re a pirate who can’t stomach the taste of liquor?”

She groans. “Well, I guess Simon’s already ruined this for me, so guilty as charged.”

“And I thought my dear aunt was mundane.”

“Mundane!” she sounds aghast at the very thought. “Oh, Basil, how could you liken my crew to a motley band of mundane seafarers?”

“It wasn’t that hard to do.” I mutter, but to her, I say: “My most sincere apologies, Captain Bunce. I didn't mean any offense.”

She rolls her eyes, “Of course you didn’t, that’s why you insulted me under your breath instead of to my face.”

“That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“And the first word I would use to describe you is  _ gentlemanly _ .”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I guess I will have to find out for myself. Let’s talk business, Pitch.” She changes the subject rather abruptly. 

“Business?”

“Yes,” she says, “are we keeping both ships?”

“Of course. I’m not giving up my ship.” I say. 

“Neither am I, so I guess we’re going to keep our respective crews and ships as well. We’ll sail as allies?”

“A fleet, Bunce,” I correct her.

“A fleet of two?” She questions. 

“The most feared fleet of two on the seas.” I say.  

“Of course.” Penelope nods. “What about Simon?”

Simon sits up. “What about me?”

“Well, the fleet concept was created because you two didn’t want to separate, but you’re still my first mate,” Bunce explains.

“I can sail with you on our longer journeys, Pen,” he says, “but the rest of the time I’ll be with Baz. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be too far away from either of you.”

“We’re sailing as a unit then?” Keris pipes up.

“I’d assume so,” I answer her. 

“What about Philippa?” Niall asks the question we’ve all been waiting for.

Bunce cuts him a look. Simon leans closer to me.

“Philippa was taken care of,” She answers simply. 

“Taken care of?” Niall sounds horrified. “You killed her?”

“Of course not!” Penny sounds equally shocked, “I just told her to pack her bags and never come back. Then I sent her off into town, she’ll have to fend for herself now.”

Simon shifts uncomfortably. I wonder if he feels responsible. I take his hand, squeezing it. A reminder that I’m there. 

“Good,” I say. “A crew has no place for disunity.”

Penny nods in agreement. “Indeed it does not.”

We finish the food and Simon rests his head on my shoulder. I put my arm around him, and we all sit there in comfortable silence. 

Penny speaks first, “I’m going back to my ship if anyone wants to come with me.”

Rhys and Gareth seem eager to leave, and the trio get up together. 

“Are you coming, Simon?” She asks. 

“Can I stay here?” He says, “I haven’t seen Baz in awhile.”

She sighs, “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“In the morning,” he agrees. 

Soon enough, the deck empties out as my crew retires to their cabins for the night. Now it’s just Simon and I, sitting by the railing and listening to the waves crash against the shore. It’s nice, not feeling rushed like this. I feel as though this could be forever. Infinite. And by the way Simon’s eyes are closed and the smile on his face, I think that he might feel it too. 

“Love?” I whisper, a question. 

“Yes?” he answers, “What is it?”

“I want this to be forever.” I tell him exactly what’s on my mind. At this point I’m perfectly comfortable being vulnerable with him. 

He smiles up at me, “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you people leave the absolute sweetest comments and we appreciate it a lot, but we still need more votes to decide what our next work is going to be. comment one of the following:
> 
> ~ performing arts school au 
> 
> ~ highschool au (for @wo2ash) (it's kinda punk/pastel as well because we have too much power)
> 
> ~ royalty au


	16. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay pals!! the last chapter, so we decided to make it special and give you a few songs to listen to while you read. all of these are on the playlist, which will be linked at the top of the chapter. 
> 
> ~ my heart is buried in venice by ricky montgomery ~
> 
> ~ honeybee by the head and the heart ~
> 
> ~ i know a place by MUNA ~
> 
> please do this because it makes reading it 100x better!!

[ _ https://open.spotify.com/user/1244763432/playlist/63AXYIHeS2Gkgkg92SyaZH?si=0PuJJ9LlSPy7DVLgP4AlDw  _ ](https://open.spotify.com/user/1244763432/playlist/63AXYIHeS2Gkgkg92SyaZH?si=0PuJJ9LlSPy7DVLgP4AlDw)

**epilogue**

**_Venice, Italy - 1719_ **

**simon**

Penny climbs up the rope. “Well, do you see them?”

I nod. “ _ The Natasha  _ just docked,” I reply, trying not to sound too excited. “ _ The Kid  _ is on our tail.”

“Good.” Penny starts to climb down. “Micah! Gareth! Prepare the anchor!”

Micah and Gareth race to the railing to toss down the anchor, and I watch with vague interest. Micah joined our crew a few months ago. Penny met him in Alexandria, and they hit it off. He officially joined our crew when we met him again in a small port on the island of Cyprus. I’m pretty sure that Penny likes Micah as more than just a crew member, but I can never be sure with the way that they act around each other. 

Baz is positive that they’re together, he thinks it's hilarious that they might be keeping a relationship secret.  _ Why would people like them have to do that? They can walk around in public together holding hands without people screaming that you’re an abomination.  _ I see his point, but I told him to let Penny and Micah keep things private if they wanted to.

Finally, we drop the anchor. Baz and his crew are standing at the docks, waving wildly. 

“Simon!” Trixie shouts at me, we’ve become quite good friends and drinking buddies in the time that our crews have been united. I wave in return. 

Penny lowers the gangplank and I run down it, right into Baz’s arms. He twirls me around as if I’m as light as a feather. He’s gotten stronger, and it’s kinda hot. 

“Long time no see.” He says once he puts me down. 

“It’s only been two weeks!” I challenge, but he’s right; it feels like we’ve been apart forever. 

“And yet that never stops you two from acting like you’ve been separated for ten years,” Penny adds. 

“One day you’ll understand, Pen,” I reply.

Penny shrugs, but Micah gives her a look. Baz does his best to conceal a snort and I elbow him. We can have our suspicions, but I don’t want to force them to tell us before they’re ready. 

“Oi!” Fiona practically appears behind Baz. “Are you kids plotting something without me? I thought that was strictly prohibited in our contract or something.”

“We didn’t have a contract…” Rhys says, confused. 

“That was a joke, dearie.” Fiona says, patting Rhys gently on the shoulder. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding defeated. I don’t think Penny’s crew has truly gotten used to, as Baz calls it, Pitch’s humor.

Fiona joined our “fleet” a little after it was formed. Her crew—Ebb, Nico, and the goats: Toffee, Apple, and Cherry—came along of course. The goats are everyone’s favorite, and Fiona jokes they’re the only reason Penny allowed them to join our so-called fleet in the first place. I never dispute her, partially because I think she’s right, and partially because I’m slightly intimidated by her. But I have to admit, I love having Ebb around again. Penny’s a little annoyed by her, I can tell, but she tolerates Fiona’s crew as well as she tolerates Baz’s. She especially doesn’t like Trixie, but her and Keris get along well enough.

“Well, are we gonna find a pub?” Trixie asks. 

“It’s the middle of the fucking afternoon, Trixie.” Penny snaps, and Keris gives her a look, so she amends herself. “We’ll find one later.”

“I’d be happy to get drunk now.” Niall mutters, and I only hear him because I’m standing next to Baz. I think Niall is everyone’s inner thoughts. 

Baz takes my hand, “We can’t just sit around here. We’re in Venice!”

“Are you inviting us to act like tourists, Basilton?” Penny asks. 

“It’s not a bad idea.” I say. 

“Never said it was,” Penny says amiably. “I was just asking.”

“Have any of us been here before?” Baz asks. 

“I have.” Fiona says. 

“Don’t ruin my point, dear aunt.” Baz always calls her that and I’m never sure if he means it as an insult or not. 

“I would never dream of it, dear nephew.”

After no one else raises their hands or says anything, he continues: “The majority of is have never been here. So why not explore? I’ve heard it’s a beautiful city and we might as well take in the sights while we can.”

“I think I’m going to pass on that.” Rhys says, “My leg has been paining me recently. Plus, someone has to keep an eye on the goats, right?”

“I think Nico was planning on staying behind as well,” Fiona says, “complaining about a cough, but I think it’s just hangover from a few nights ago. He drank an entire bottle of Russian vodka while Ebb and I were asleep. When we woke up he was trying to have conversations with the goats.”

“Oh my,” Penny says, “is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Fiona waves her hand dismissively. “This isn’t the first time he’s drunk himself into oblivion.”

“I’ll stay with him then.” Rhys says, “You didn’t dock too far from here, did you?”

“Only a few ships down,” Fiona responds, “and please tell Ebb that she ought to come down here.”

“Of course.” He says, and disappears around the other side of  _ The Magick _ . 

“Let’s go explore!” Trixie says brightly, grabbing Keris’ hand. 

Keris gives her a smile, “Are we splitting up?”

“If that’s what everyone wants to do.” Penny says. 

I take Baz’s hand, “You, darling, are coming with me.”

“I am, am I? I wasn’t aware.” He teases, and I shove him a bit. 

“You two are disgusting,” Penny tells us, as she walks by with Micah. Baz and I exchange glances. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Baz asks me, as quietly as he can.

“We’re gonna follow them.” I blurt, and then cover my mouth, checking to see if they heard me, but they’re too far away to possibly have overheard my comment. 

“I like the way you think, Snow.” He says, and begins to follow them. 

I roll my eyes at the use of my last name, he only does that when he wants to annoy me, and chase after him. 

We follow Penny and Micah down a winding cobbled side street lined with colorful storefronts, until we reach a canal. They talk to a portly man, who’s standing proudly next to a gondola. 

“Can we rent this?” I hear Micah ask. 

“Sí,” he says. 

“How much?” Penny’s already fishing in the coinpurse on her belt. 

“Per te, gratuito!” He gives them a smile. “Il tuo giovane amore è bello.”

“What did he say?” I hiss to Baz. 

“He told them that for them, the boat ride is free, and that their young love is beautiful.” He explains. 

“I didn’t think you knew Italian!”

“Conosco molte cose, amore mio.” He replies. 

“Now you’re just being cruel because you know I don’t understand!” I bemoan, slumping against the wall next to us. 

“Forse,” he smirks, but cuts me off before I can say anything else. “Look!”

I look over at Penny and Micah, the latter of which is standing in the gondola already. 

“M’lady,” he says, taking Penny’s hand and helping her in. 

“Thank you, kind sir.” Penny kisses Micah when she gets in.

“I bloody knew it,” Baz hisses.

I swat his arm. “You know this isn’t really our business.”

“And yet you suggested we follow them.”

I couldn’t argue with that.  

“C’mon love, we know everything we need to know about them. We don’t need to see more sappy shit. We’re here, so we might as well have a romantic evening to ourselves.” He takes my hand. 

“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

“Follow me.” 

He leads me down more winding streets, alongside canals where we have to walk single file in order to not fall in the water. We stop at a small pub with music pouring out of it. It’s tucked away from the rest of the shops on the street by a couple of empty storefronts complete with broken windows. The pub itself is almost cheery, but the windows and doors are draped in red fabric so it’s impossible to see inside. 

We slip through the door and I’m amazed. The entire pub is draped in the same red that the windows were. In fact, the entire place is red. Little nooks have been created from fabric and are lined with pillows and couches. 

“Simonnnn!” I turn and see Trixie and Keris lounging in one of the nooks. 

I look at Baz. “What are they doing here?”

“Same as us,” he replies. 

I walk over to them, “What even is this place?” I ask them because Baz isn’t being particularly helpful. 

“A haven of sorts,” Baz answers, and Keris nods in agreement.

I look around and I see two men lounging in another nook, one lanky and dark-skinned, the other short and brunet with a large burn scar on the side of his face. But what surprises me most is that the taller one is holding the shorter one and they’re kissing. Openly. No one around them bats an eye. There are more men like them. Women too.

“Everyone here is like us,” Trixie says. 

“Woah, really?”

“Really,” Baz says with a smile. “I thought you’d like it here.”

“I do!” I say brightly, looking around more. “I love it.”

Since the Philippa incident, I’ve noticed more and more how dangerous it has been to be with Baz. When we get to close, or touch too much in public, I notice the looks and the whispers. I notice how Baz or Penny stop me. And Baz must be really used to it because he’s never as hurt as I am. He always makes sure to kiss me when we’re back to the ship, to hold me and tell me how much he loves me regardless. But it hurts. 

And now we’re here, in, as Baz put it, a haven. A utopia of sorts. I take Baz’s hand and he spins me onto the dancefloor in the middle of the room, joining about ten other couples swaying back and forth to the music. I find myself wishing that the entire world could be like this room, like this dancefloor. A place where I’m not afraid to take my lover’s hand. 

I haven’t had anything to drink, but I feel drunk as he presses his lips to mine. Drunk on my freedom. I give up on dancing. I just kiss him, and he kisses me right back. And we don’t feel like a secret.

**fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking with us! this has been a great journey and it's all thanks to you guys. we love you so much!!!! 
> 
> ps. the winner of our poll is probably going to be the highschool au so keep an eye out for another collaboration coming soon! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3


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